We have recently been travelling, spending nearly three weeks north of the border in Scotland. We had a good time there, visiting old haunts and exploring new ones, but although it’s great to be back home again our return is tinged with anxiety – will the cats forgive us for abandoning them?
Caramel, aka the Ginger Ninja
Regular readers of this blog will know that, although we have no cats of our own, Mrs P and I have a close relationship with several of the local neighbourhood felines. They all lay claim to our garden, though they graciously allow us to use it too, and the most brazen of them – Malteser and Caramel – also enjoy prowling through the house, demanding regular attention, edible treats and loving belly rubs. Our role is simply to attend to their needs, and they are certain to be unhappy that we have recently been neglecting our duties.
We arrive home late afternoon on Tuesday, and I scan the garden hopefully. It’s an overgrown mess – no surprise there, given my lack of enthusiasm or talent for gardening – but it’s also a cat-free zone. Tomorrow, maybe?
Milky Bar, handsome but aloof
But Wednesday comes and goes with minimal feline activity. Milky Bar passes through, eyeing me up as he does, but not bothering to say hi. He’s an aloof cat who rarely greets us these days, but I’d hoped he’d at least acknowledge our return with a few well-directed purrs.
Thursday brings an unexpected visitor, neighbourhood wide-boy Cadbury. Our other feline friends all live together, but Cadbury is a new arrival from the other end of the estate. When he encounters Milky Bar, Malteser or Caramel hackles are raised on both sides, and the air crackles to sounds of mutual hissing and yowling. We wish Cadbury no harm, of course, but our affections lie with his feline opponents, so we shed no tears when he leaves.
Cadbury, the neighbourhood wide-boy
At last, on Friday morning, Caramel arrives. I’m in the kitchen making an early morning cup of tea, and glance through the window to see the ginger ninja – as we sometimes refer to him – peering hopefully into the garden pond. He’s clearly hoping to have a goldfish for breakfast, but the netting I installed years ago frustrates him once again.
Looking up, Caramel spots me watching him. The reaction is immediate. He meows several times, leaps onto the garden seat that sits beneath the kitchen window, and from there onto the window ledge. With his nose pressed up against the glass he stares in at me intently, checking me out. I can read his mind: Is it really you? Really? After all this time?
I cross to the door, and the moment I open up he dashes in, meowing furiously while rubbing himself against my legs. Where have you been? he demands. Abandoning me like that is unforgiveable. However, if you were to give me a large helping of Pawsome Pockets, I just might let you off this time! And with that he hops up onto one of the kitchen chairs, gazes cutely into my eyes and waits to be hand-fed. Mrs P joins us and together we give Caramel the breakfast to end all breakfasts.
When he’s done feeding our feline pal exits the kitchen, runs upstairs and stretches out on the comfy sofa in our library room. I sit next to him, and spend the next 30 minutes cradling his head, massaging his ears and rubbing his belly. Caramel purrs loudly, eyes closed, ecstasy oozing out of him. It’s just like the old days, before the trip to Scotland. Plainly, we’re forgiven.
Malteser in heaven
Malteser, however, waits until Saturday to dispense forgiveness. I spot him in the garden, sitting on the fence and peering disconsolately into the house. As soon as he sees me he perks up. I open the door to let him in and greets me with a friendly meow. I reach for the packet of Pawsome Pockets and he begins to purr loudly, clearly delighted that normal service has been resumed after a gap of three weeks. When he’s done eating he presents his belly and I rub it tenderly, and then do the same to his ears. He’s in heaven, and Mrs P and I are officially forgiven.
In all, it has taken nearly four days to rebuild the relationship with all our visiting cats. The bad news for them is that we’ve got a busy summer ahead, and will be going away several more times. With luck they will take pity on us, and we will quickly be forgiven for abandoning them again and again. Hopefully…
Caramel again!
Now I'm 64 
So glad your feline friends have forgiven you! They are lovely cats.
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They are! I’m typing this at 8:55am, and already Malteser and Caramel have both visited us twice this morning. Forgiveness confirmed!
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We have unwelcome neighbourly cats here as they prey on our local bird population which is very good as we feed generously. They are particularly unwelcome when pheasant chicks are about. I have dreamed of a sniper rifle or some such to rectify the situation!!!
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I do find myself conflicted on this subject. You’ll know from my blog that I’m a keen birdwatcher as well as a cat-lover and I don’t want to see either side suffering. I take the view that if we offer the cats sufficient helpings of Pawsome Pockets they’ll be too stuffed to chase our feathered friends, let alone to eat one!
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This is a delightful testament to forgiveness.
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Time is a great healer, as is the prospect of daily edible treats and belly rubs!
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Phew, I read this post with my heart in my throat. Would those cats forgive? To my relief, they did. And I am sure they will do so again. Such a delightful post. Lively to read about your kindness to the neighborhood cats.
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Thank you Laurie, I’m glad you enjoyed this one. Those cats bring us enormous pleasure and we’d have been heartbroken if they had stayed away. I’m pleased to report that both Caramel and Malteser called twice this morning before 9am, so it seems clear that they have fully forgiven our recent absence.
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I detect a definite theme to the names of your neighbourhood cats. The three who live together I can understand, but the interloper, Cadbury, is some coincidence. Or are these just your own names for them?
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It’s no coincidence. When Mrs P retired early while I was still working she would email me at the office (tut tut, naughty me, not giving work my full and undivided attention!) with news of feline visitors to our garden. Describing them became a bit of a chore for her, so we agreed on names for them all, our theme being chocolate, biscuits etc. Other cats who have passed through over the years but are not mentioned in this post include Toblerone, Minstrel, Mars Bar, Bourneville, Flake and Ginger Nut. Before too long I’m hopeful that Creme Egg and Bounty Bar will make themselves known to us. 🙂
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Ah,explains a lot!
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They are adorable cats!!! We just came back from Switzerland and London. I love London. It is an amazing city!!! But Calie, one of our cats, got depression by a black cat in the cat hotel. She is recovering now by I holding her to see closet and drawers.
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Hi June, Glad you liked London, though as a (former) Londoner I would add that it’s better to visit the city for a short period than to live there permanently! So sorry to hear that Calie’s not feeling great. I’m sure she’ll feel better now you’re back with her.
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Just keep up with the supply of pawsome pockets and I’m sure you will all be ok. 🙂
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Definitely – the way to a cat’s heart is via his belly!
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I can see sales of Pawsome Pockets soaring as you ingratiate yourselves over the summer after various absences.
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I really should buy some shares in the company that makes them!
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I love your cats and cat posts! I’m on their side – don’t go away so much!
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Thank you. I’ll put your suggestion to Mrs P!
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Fear not. Pawsome Pockets and belly rubs will always lure them back! 😸😸
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Yes, they’re easy to please! 🙂
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Welcome home☺️ How generous of your feline friends to forgive you😸
I am glad you are in their good graces again, and it’s nice to see them look very healthy and at-ease. Of course I recognise Milky Bar too!
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Hi Takami. Forgiveness continues! Caramel called this morning, and after Mrs P had fed him generously he ran upstairs and I joined him, the pair of us sitting together on the sofa, him purring and snoozing, and me loving every minute of it! Eventually I excused myself and went downstairs for breakfast. When I reached the kitchen I spotted Malteser in the garden, staring hopefully at the kitchen window. I let him in, and Mrs P treated him. Caramel must have heard what was going on, and trotted downstairs and demanded extra treats. What a great way to start the day! 😺😺😺
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A wonderful way to start the day indeed!😻
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Cadbury is an absolute unit. There are no wild bobcats in the UK, but I wonder how many domestic cats there may have European wildcat DNA from the extant population in the Scottish Highlands. He looks like he may have some wild genes.
The forgiveness protocol will be familiar to any cat servant. Buddy usually goes to great lengths to appear nonchalant when I return from trips, as if he’s hardly noticed I was gone. That lasts about a half hour at most before he forgets he’s supposed to be upset with me.
Then he spends the next few days even more attached to me than usual, staying so close that I have to tread very carefully because he’s often underfoot, and I make sure he’s in the bathroom with me before closing the door, otherwise there’ll be a meowing racket to raise the dead.
I’m glad Caramel and Malteser magnanimously forgave you and allowed you to serve them again. The natural order has been restored!
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I have no insider knowledge of Cadbury’s genetic heritage, but interbreeding between Scottish Wildcats and domestic cats is well documented so in principle this could be reflected in his ancestry. Indeed there are believed to be few if any genetically pure Scottish Wildcats left outside captivity due to interbreeding with (feral) domestic cats. There are some captive breeding programmes that seek to preserve the Wildcats as a genetically distinct species, but as and when any of their progeny are released back into the wild, the same issue will undoubtedly recur.
I couldn’t help laughing at the thought of your Buddy loudly demanding access to the bathroom. Fortunately Caramel and Malteser don’t do this…yet!
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Dude, it’s unbelievable. I will have to record the racket he makes when I use the bathroom without waiting for him to scurry in there. You would swear there’s a masked killer, blades dripping blood, taking measured steps down the hallway to murder Bud unless I open the door “RIGHT MEOW!!!”
And yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking of, re: Scottish wildcats. I’ve read quite a few articles over the years about the fear that the wildcats are basically being diluted out of existence due to cross-species breeding. I do hope someone clever finds a solution.
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