Cats

Take note. We have been invaded!

I am a dog lover. Ask anyone who has been owned by a dog and they will tell you that they possess you body and heart. Dog lovers are as distinct from cat lovers as dogs are from cats. My neighbour is a cat lover with a vengeance and every sighting of, or interaction with, a cat is faithfully reported.

Feral cats have been part of our surroundings from way back when. I know because our dogs delighted in chasing them or barking them up a tree. We have been dog-less for many years and I ceased to notice the cats, until now.

Every morning at seven thirty, there is moggie roll call. This morning, I counted thirteen. A cat coven? They come in one by one: some from over the wall, some spring from ledges off the building and others amble in off the road. Breakfast is the gleanings of the meat handed out in generous measure from Olympia – the restaurant. Sated, the cats disperse. Some to languidly snooze, others to whatever business they need to transact. The younger ones play.

Then there are the bank cats. They drape themselves on the steps leading to the ATM, on the parapets holding the lamps and sometimes on the sofa intended for the elderly. They are indifferent to the customers coming and going but they love the watchman. Occasionally, they infiltrate the bank but do not stay long.

Overlooked by our bedroom window is an office complex. Here too, cats have made a home, a playground, a maternity hospital and a crèche. We are, at different times, treated to the sounds of importunate males, cautionary mothers and hungry kittens. The other night, we were serenaded by a feline four part harmony in true Walt Disney fashion. And as they sang to the soon to be obscured moon, our neighbour also aping Walt Disney quenched their chorus with a well aimed bucket of water. So much for budding quartets.

The church, too, has its customary cat. Ours is a traditional structure replete with belfry (but no bats), steeples and mice. So, the cat completes the picture. It is well fed and content, occasionally choosing to nap in the porch or on well cushioned kneeler depending on the weather and the temperature. The church, outside service times, is dimly lit, cool and cavernous, a haven to those in need of peace – human and cat alike.

Finally, there is the orange tom who befriends my cat-loving neighbour, in exchange for a saucer of milk. He also visits every doormat and bestows fur and fleas without discrimination.

And so the encounter with cats has become a part of the daily ritual. The invasion is complete.