It had to be my imagination. I sure as hell didn’t want to acknowledge it as an apparition.
In the split-second I caught the shadow of a cat’s tail, I hesitated for a moment.
To chase after the thing, or not?
I peered out of the bathroom and there was, I swear, nothing there. Dripping wet in my tangle of towels, I assured myself that I have always been civil to cats and there was no reason for the phantom (or any phantom for that matter) to seek a bloodthirsty revenge. Anyway, what exactly can it do? Meow me to death?
Mind happily convinced, I settled comfortably on the floor with my good friend FritoLay and a fat book. Laying curled up in my awkward angle, the hours flitted by until my stiff bones made a convincing case to stretch. It was then that our eyes met.
She backtracked slowly, taking her time as she made an educated guess as to where the open window was beneath the billowing curtain. Her physics stood true and with a graceful leap she exited the window exactly where the fabric parted. Together with a tiny kitten in her mouth.
My heart whimpered as I peeped out the window to see Mommy cat with her baby on the downstairs awning. It had been pouring and she had nowhere to take her kittens. I silently closed the window as she pondered her next course of action. I simply could not let her in again. My landlord would kick me out, then her, if he found I was harbouring a stray. In my first floor room. Best she found another friendlier home for her litter.
A bit disturbed and not totally convinced I did the right thing, I settled back on the floor. Fat book was waiting impatiently.
Wait, the cat could not have deposited the rest of its family already, could it? After all the window was open the whole day.
Good God! The laundry basket!
5 minutes of flying undergarments and yesterday’s socks, I heaved a sigh of relief when I found no feline trace. Ok, that was an over reaction. Checking beneath the bed for the last time before shoving the basket back under,I thot I thaw a puddytat!
I did! I did thee a puddyt.. I mean pussycat. Three. Maybe four. Complete with fuzzy fur and tightly closed eyes. Nestled between my Hush Puppies and Tang shoe boxes. Then my torchlight decided that it got enough excitement for the day and promptly died.
Okay, okay, what to do.
First, breathe.
Next, call cat lover to ask advice. Providence was kind and Jo was still awake. Fact that I was thick-skinned never came more handy.
Shrieked my problem and being the first to laugh, she sort of set the precedent.
Together formulated a plan:
1. put newborns in box.
2. place box in backyard.
3. pray hard mommy cat will not question too much why her kids are on the backyard, right after she deposited them in the upstairs bedroom.
4. mommy cat would give kittens usual drill for not staying put and take them somewhere safe. (apart from under my bed)
So far so good. Not really having a choice, I had to tell my landlord about the cat that invaded my bedroom. Got the expected ‘I told you to close your window’ bit.
Not fans of cats, they are not fiends either and their experience was that one should never touch a newborn for fear that our putrid human scent would put the mother off from picking the kittens up again. Or worse, she would eat the babe.
Oh that put me in a real right mood. Like my already traumatised karma needs more of this.
Okay, plan B.
1. Leave window open hoping mommy would come back
2. hope that mommy would perceive that big surprised human (me) as a threat
3. pick up her kids and get the hell out of my room
With the bedroom silent, the wind blowing through the once again opened window, I went to bed with a brood of kittens under me.
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