Pip - Silliest Cat in the World

As my pen scribes this story, I am aware our cat is setting his eyes upon me; although part sleepy, he would come to my side in a flash if I offered his favourite biscuit – yes, an inducement perhaps, but a message all the same to tell him how much I care.

Cats have a very valid sixth sense. They know if one is sad or happy, and they also know who to trust. But this story is not about Rags. This is about my previous cat, whom I called Pip. He was, without doubt, the silliest animal I have ever come across. He would walk on the top of a spiked garden fence, or end up on top of a removal lorry and seemed to believe he was impervious to danger. He also proved to be incompetent when it came to catching flies. How many times must a cat be stung in order to realise bees are not for eating?

Oh, but I loved him to bits and felt his loss greatly when he passed away in my arms. You say to yourself, "Oh, that’s it. No more animals." And yet…. You have this void in your heart, and the only way to fill it is by getting another cat.

And this is where I discovered – cats choose you! If they take to your smell, it is almost as if your whole story is revealed to them. There is no unpredictability or random madness. They know, instinctively, whether they are going to love you or ignore you! So how can you do the same?

If you have never had a cat before, how do you get that certain probability? You let the cat come to you! The remarkable fact is that a cat is blessed with heightened senses. Your smell tells a story, and within a matter of seconds, the animal’s senses have given a picture of your nature. Sometimes, a cat has been treated badly, but with love and patience, you can make a difference.

Those who genuinely want to show not all humans are idiots, it is possible to give the cat assurances that they will be loved with all your heart.

It’s rather like my neighbour’s cat three doors away with a car park in between. They rehomed two female cats and called one Bandit and the other Banjo. Bandit was the most curious. She liked our garden and loved her tummy rubbed. Plenty of bushes and places to hide and sleep that were tucked away by high leaf bushes. The only problem was my cat. Although he is strictly an indoor cat, he would sit on the kitchen windowsill, keeping guard over his domain. Even more so when he caught a glimpse of Bandit, a cheeky black cat that rather took a fancy to my window ledge.

So, in time, there began a habit. Bandit would sit on the ledge, chancing his luck, looking at Rags, who was sitting on the sill, looking at her. It was rather like a Clint Eastwood cowboy film – a standoff without guns being drawn. And when the day’s dying light had been replaced by the glow of the kitchen, both cats went in their opposite direction, believing they had won the standoff.

Eventually, like split continents, they accepted a natural method of communication. Rags would yawn and turn on his back showing off his furry belly, and Bandit would jump from the sill to have a roll in the grass, totally unimpressed with his performance!

As much as I wished for these two candidates to play nicely, I knew in my heart I could never let Rags out or let Bandit in. Yes, I had half a dozen heart faltering moments but I was clinging to the remnants of my memories, the element of possibilities for these two to be friends.

Then something else offered inspiration. I went along to my garden centre, Dobbies, and bought an indoor Forever plant. These plans are renowned for growing a green world. I placed the 4-foot-tall plant in my conservatory that overlooks our little garden. Within hours my cat was taking in the outside world through its leaves, and somehow it mellowed in its attitude toward Bandit who sat outside my conservatory door looking at him.

Yes, there they were, gazing at each other like lovesick idiots and had somehow become distant friends. No longer was there the hissing aggression over territory but a quiet acceptance of her enjoying the company of a friend between glass.

I never attempted anything else. The glass door always remained closed between them. I rather gathered it was both their safety net, knowing they could see each other but be safely apart. Who would have thought a plant could do all that? Or was it the final acceptance they had to face – that they could share a small world without rivalry. What a wonderful thought if our world was the same?

So imagine what brand we could muster; yes, not a glass door between countries but a logical and intelligent arrangement that not only keeps our borders secure but also has the capability to make us feel safe. It was that impetus to encourage me to write Giddy Midnight, where one is disadvantaged by a curse, the other (a Roman soldier) takes advantage of a curse. And yes, for one woman caught between the two, like the glass door, his love for Giddy and his furry companion was an act of courage… which, I like to think, my act to buy a plant to soften the tension of my cat, was a good idea.