1553/30th June 2024 . Nobody was pleased with their breakfast this morning. The twins wanted "that green stuff" and the dear little darlings all wanted "something else!" My first feline companion, very many years ago was given to me by my f…
Nobody was pleased with their breakfast this morning.
The twins wanted "that green stuff" and the dear little darlings all wanted "something else!"
My first feline companion, very many years ago was given to me by my friend Tim whose philosophy was:
"If they're hungry, they'll eat!"
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But Mohammed lived a high life.
Tim was in charge of catering for one of the airlines we handled, so it was not unusual for Mo to be licking out cans of caviar, or enjoying a nice bit of smoked salmon.
Sometimes there were fresh crayfish from Cape Verde.
As I recall, there was a goody supply of champagne too. I have conveniently forgotten where it all came from.
Mo even had a pin-up on the wall bey his bowl, a cut-out from Vogue magazine of a posh cat wearing pearls!
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Tim's compulsive travelling took him one year to Yemen, where he had a guide named Mohammed.
Mohammed chewed khat. So Tim told him that if he ever owned a cat, he would call it Mohammed.
Which is what he did.
It was not disrespectful and the name suited the cat perfectly. When Tim bought a house and moved, I took over his apartment and because Mo didn't like the new house or new kitten, he came back to live with me.
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Caesar was a ball of white fluff that Tim rescued from the airport. He'd called and asked if I would like a kitten for my new apartment, but it was the last I heard about it being mine, as Tim fell deeply in love.
The kitten had long white hair and I thought he looked like a Roman in a toga, hence his name. He was very meek but Mo was terrified and took up residence on Tim's new fridge.
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Thus, I became a cat-minder.
Tim had allowed Mo to be an indoor-outdoor cat which I could not undo. One bitter winter he went missing for a week, during which time a stray turned up on my doorstep.
When Mo returned, the stray went to live with Tim and Caesar and she became Cleopatra.
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A year or so later, Mohammed went out one night and did not return. I waited and hoped, but he did not come back. I loved him so much and losing him was hard but the worst part was not knowing what had happened.
For years I kept track of how old Mo would be until I knew for certain he would be gone.
It was awful.
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Tim knew I was heart-broken. He and my work colleagues collected to buy me a posh cat. I'm not sure why, because I would have been thrilled to save a homeless animal.
But the new boy certainly was very beautiful. He was Balinese and although the mountain is actually not in Indonesia, I named the lad after Mount Kinabalu, in Borneo.
There was only one problem. Kina did not like me. He chewed my toes, pulled my hair and did every naughty thing could could think of.
It may have been that he didn't like women. He adored my gentleman friend! Wanted to go home with him.
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It would have involved a trans-Atlantic journey and quarantine, among other problems, but Tim and my friend decided what Kina needed was a companion.
A few days before Christmas, 5-week old Yeti arrived. The owners had wanted to be rid of their kittens before the holiday!
Yeti was tiny and it was immediately noticeable that she was crawling with fleas, so we bathed and dried her which she endured without complaint.
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Yeti never cried for her mother or litter mates.
She seemed totally composed, always.
How would Kina react, though?
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It was actually quite sweet. He seemed immediately protective of this new, tiny creature.
"She's mine. Hands off!"
It would have been nice, if it had worked out this way, but Kina still didn't like me, didn't want to live with a single female.
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He wanted a family to dote on him and he set about to get just that.
Cats are clever. Kina was smart and manipulative.
Before long he got exactly what he wanted and he lived a long and very happy life. With a family.
When he went, I cried for a week, but it was the right thing for all of us.
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The manner by which Kina accomplished this is a story in itself. I believe he plotted it, step by step.
Yeti took a few notes of her own, at the time.
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This is not what I expected to write and you may have read a version of it before.
This morning was punctuated by a series of confusing phone conversations with a utility company, followed by further dealings with an electrician, after which I had rather given up the idea of writing at all.
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