[AG-EQ] My cat

[Jewel]

After living with me for just a single month shy of 20 years, on the evening of 28 November 2019, my 
cat, 2K answered the call of the grim reaper and, after having asked me to give her a bit of 
stroking:  a request that I had no difficulty in granting, at some point, she left the house via her 
floor level cat door and took herself off to wait for death's inevitability in some hidden spot. 
Barring death by sudden trauma,, it is very common for cats, if they are able to, to behave in this 
way when their time is up.
2K was, basically,  still in good health and was behaving as normal, but about a month ago, her 
appetite had, almost entirely,  dropped away and she had become little more than a fur-clad skeleton

It is less than two full days since 2K's  disappearance and I still feel:  is it imagination?  the 
occasional soft brushing against my pants legs.
I will continue by reproducing a letter that I wrote in 2,000, and there may be an addendum.  Here 
is the story of her first visit and its aftermath.-----------------------------------

  A                    FURRY  TAIL.  2000.

On January 1 2000, the date we were warned that aeroplanes would fall from the skies, and of all 
manner of other catastrophes, simply,  because computers would not be able to cope with the fact 
that 1999 had become 2000, and what a  load of codswallop and balderdash that turned out to be, my 
phone rang and there was Deslie, my sister, calling from her holiday cottage at Fortrose,to ask if I 
could give board and lodging to a kitten?
Shadow had died about 6 months earlier and no cat had moved in to take over the vacant territory, so 
I said that I could and would be delighted to do so.
Not much more than an hour later she arrived with this wee kitten that, from its size, I guessed was 
very young, perhaps only a couple of months old.
It had wandered into her neighbour's house. Steve did not want it and Deslie already had 2 cats and 
a trio of Boston Terriers who would have been very unwelcoming of a newcomer, so to offer it to the 
catless me was the obvious route to take.
In the brief time Deslie had had her/him, she had called her/him Centurion for obvious reasons, but 
the name did nothing for me!
Anyone surprised at that?  NO!  I thought not!!
The kitten was very thin and scrawny and this made her ears seem huge, so Enid Blyton's Big Ears, 
best friend of Noddy, came into my mind so it was a short hop step and jump from Big Ears to Noddy, 
but,  nah! still wasn't right, and then I had it!  The "2kY bug" had been the topic of many 
conversations for some time, and as this was the first year of 2000, forget the year and the bug: 
2K she was! At first, I spelled it Touquet, pronounced as in bouquet, but to avoid mispronunciation, 
I changed it to 2K, which you will admit is a pretty cool name for a cat!  Could she be the world's 
only cat called 2K?  I wouldn't be surprised if she was!
The first thing was to have her checked by the vet and to get the necessary vaccinations.
Although she was thin and had, obviously, been without a proper home for quite a  while, she was in 
good health, and using her dentition as a measure, the vet said that she was more like 4 months than 
the 2 I had thought.
Now let's jump to when 2K was 6 months old and ready for desexing.
I put her in a cardboard portapet box and off we went to the vet, and here 2K's story really starts.
I was standing at the reception desk when the bottom of the portapet box opened  and out she fell, 
picked herself up, and at the speed of lightning, she was out the open door and gone.
For the next fortnight, I advertised in the local paper and on the radio, giving her description, 
and did get some replies from people saying that a kitten/small cat matching the description had 
been seen in point A point Z and all points between!
Some of the reported sightings were too far away to present any real hope that the  animal was 2K, 
but those that seemed, at all, likely were, thoroughly checked but nothing was found.
Then came a very confident call from an elderly lady saying that she had managed to catch my cat and 
had her shut up in a box.
Now, this was on a Monday, and Monday was the day I went to spinning class, so before going there, I 
got the taxi driver to take me and Guido, my guide dog, to the address given.
The driver told me to stay in the taxi and he would collect her.  he knew the cat by sight, which, 
when I thought about it later, was a little unlikely as the only time he had seen her was as a 
rapidly-vanishing blur as she made her escape from the 	vet's.

He came back to the taxi with the cat that he was sure was mine shut up in a box.  I had some doubts 
when the cat, from within the confines of the box reacted with furious spitting when, I assume, she 
caught a whiff of dog as 2K knew Guido well and was quite relaxed while in his company.
I did not want to miss my spinning class so took the cat to  the vet's clinic where I would leave 
her until I collected her later in the afternoon.
"Oh!" said the receptionist when the taxi driver carried in the box:  "You have Miss Blanch's cat!

Let it be remembered that, during all this frantic activity, Miss Blanch had not had as much, or as 
little, as one identifying finger on *her cat!
Cat collecting time arrived and as I walked past the surgery on my way to the cat cages, the vet 
stopped me and said:  "I could not spay the cat that you brought in as she has already been spayed. 
I saw the scar when I shaved her!"
"In the first place, I did not bring her, on  this occasion, to be spayed, but that does resolve the 
question of whether the cat is mine or whether it is not!"
It was, obviously, someone's companion as it was in very good order, so I took her home with the 
intention of advertising for her real owner the next day.
I showed her to my neighbour who said that  she looked nothing like the description of 2K that I had 
given.  We agreed that the 3 people who had identified her as being mine: the dear old lady, the 
taxi driver and the receptionist at the veterinary  clinic must, all, have been  gah gah, under the 
influence of a halucigenic drug, or, merely, away with the fairies!
The next day, I put the ad on the pet patrol segment of Hokonui Gold our community radio station and 
as it happened, her owners were, at that very time, in their car following the route to their home. 
They had moved to  the house next door to the dear old lady's home just a week before.
Mum and  daughter arrived and, when they saw the cat, immediately, fell into an argument, one saying 
that the cat was not theirs  and the other saying  that it was!
I guessed what the cause of the confusion was:  that shaven area on her tummy, so I explained just 
how it came to be there.
Well, her owners were reunited with  their cat, but I, still,  was not with mine!  Now for the big 
question!  Just how long was it reasonable to continue asking if anyone had any solid information as 
to where she might be?  I had decided that this would be my last ad, and then came what, appeared, 
to be a very positive sighting.
A gentleman rang me from William Street which runs alongside the aviary in the Gore gardens and is 
more or less in a direct line from the vet's and is only a, relatively, short distance from there.
This man had given a chicken carcass to a small, very shy, cat that morning.  The last he had seen 
of it was when it went under the motor mower in the carport.
I rang a friend and asked him if he could take me down to the block of flats, which he agreed to do.
We got there and the original caller took us to the carport.  He thought that the cat was still 
under the mower, but could not be certain.
I asked my friend, Dave, to stand out of sight because I knew that if it was 2K, she would be off if 
she saw anyone but me.  She was, exceptionally, shy and nervous of anyone else!
Dave retired a few feet, which, I thought was not nearly enough, but what did I  know!
I got down on my hands and knees and called in the special language that I have devised for 
communicating with cats, and out she came!
DON'T  START  CHEERING  YET!
   She spotted Dave as I knew she would and vanished into the overgrown section next door where we 
had a snowball's chance in hell of finding her!
There was nothing left to do but get into the truck and drive home.
The following night, I was lying in bed listening to a radio play:  "The Blacksmith" to be precise, 
and in a slight pause in the dialogue, I thought that I heard a faint "meow" from the backdoor.  I 
leapt out of bed and opened the door saying "Is that you? 2K!"  and in she came!
Now, I know that when compared with some of the journeys that cats had made to get home, some of 
them over thousands of miles of unknown and inhospitable country, 2K's return home cannot hold a 
candle, as it, only, was over a couple of kilometres, but I thought that it was miraculous.
In some way, that brief sight of me the previous day had triggered something in her brain and kicked 
her homing instinct into activity:  or as some spoilsport had suggested, someone who knew or found 
out where I lived, had caught 2K and driven her to my gate where he/she had released her!  That is 
possible, but I prefer to believe my explanation, and now, rewriting  this "Furry tale" 20 years 
later, would she, if asked, be able to answer my questions?  PROBABLY  NOT!
Returrning to the original text:  She was, severely, dehydrated so spent 3 days at the vet's 
receiving rehydration treatment and, to boot just adding insult to injury:  she had, what turned out 
to be, merely a postponement of her fortnight-old appointment to be spayed!
Now, I said that she was very shy and nervous of anyone but me, and so she remained until she 
reached the age of 4 years, by which time, you would think that her character would be set in 
concrete, but that was not how it turned out.
For a while, she would allow my neighbour to approach her without her taking to the hills, and then 
it was she who did the approaching, and then, the change was quite remarkable, she became a cat who 
was quite relaxed in anyone's company, but just to conclude this story about my cat, 2K, another 
little something that reveals her character.
Guideon:  Guido's successor, and I had been to Christchurch for the Labour Day long weekend, and as 
the nearest airport was Invercargill, 50 miles away, Deslie had driven over from Alexandra and had 
taken me/us down to Invercargill to catch the plane.
She, also, picked us up when we rturned.
For the time we were away, I had made arrangements with my homehelp to feed 2K, so her needs had 
been taken care of, but when we entered the house, there she was, in the hallway and what did she do 
but drive her claws into Deslie's leg!  Was this in retribution for D  having taken me away, or was 
it:  perish the thought:  in retribution for her having brought me back?  Just another mystery to 
which noone but 2K knows the answer!



---------Part two:  2019.Yesterday's trip.
	2K is now 19 years old, I was going to say " having first seen the light of day!" but that, of 
course,
is incorrect as kittens as with puppies are born blind, so I shall say took her first breath, around
September 1999, and having come
into my possession on Jan1st 2000, hence her name.
For her age, she is in very fine fettle, but I noticed, recently, that several of her claws were
forming little hooks which were getting caught up in the blanket of my bed where she spends a good
part of her day, when, that is, she is not sitting on top of the empty cockatiel cage, in the sun,
and once, she got her foot hooked into the wireweave as she prepared to jump up, so, a claw-trimming
trip to the vet was arranged.
The vet told me that, in elderly cats, this was not an uncommon problem as their claws don't retract
as well as they did when younger.
Referring to the above:  A momentary digression.
I was watching one of my animal programs on the tv, and Chris, "The Vet On The Hill" was called to a 
local private wildlife reserve on the Isle of Wight in England to attend a 21-year-old Bengal 
tigress who was having similar problems as was 2K, but those of the tigress were much worse.
She had lived in this reserve for her entire life, well, from the age of a few months anyway, and I 
imagined her as being tame, and while lounging on her comfie bed on the couch, being engrossed in 
the activities of her wild relatives as shown on the idiotbox, but no!  she lived in a large 
enclosure with 2 other tigresses, and was not, in the least little bit, tame!  and now back to our 
own little, mild-mannered,  star.

2K took it all in her stride! First of all, I put her into a carrying cage that she has never been
in before. "NO WORRIES";
then into a car: "NO WORRIES!;
Into the veterinary clinic: "NO WORRIES!";
her claws were trimmed by a child, or young person of that, approximate, age: "NO WORRIES!";
and back home again.
Later on, I was sitting in my usual chair, and she came along and nudged me: something that she only 
does if she has something particular to say:  she is not one for frivolous conversations:  and I 
formed the fanciful idea that she was thanking me and arranging for her "Happy Feet".
Were those overgrown claws being pressed
onto the ground/floor at every step she took and it was, at best, uncomfortable, at worst: even a 
little painful!