Confessions of a Cat Sitter: The Columns, page 5
We reached the kitchen and switched on the lights – reassuringly bright lights - bathing the room in a warm glow. We’d made it. I served Rocky’s dinner and filled his water bowl. I’ve no idea why I filled his water bowl - I’m sure most cats take a solemn vow at birth to ignore them entirely and instead drink from any tap, glass, toilet or puddle available. In this case, the slowly dripping tap caught Rocky’s eye, and he jumped onto the sink for a drink. The curse of old houses wasn’t done with us yet though.
With a sudden unexpected thud, the plumbing shook the entire sink unit and a surprise deluge of cold water shot straight into Rocky’s upturned face. It had been a bad first visit. But I’m happy to say that as I write this, a week later, Rocky is the VIF purring happily on my lap. He’s quickly grown to love exploring his new home, and seems to have settled in perfectly.
We don’t mention the kitchen tap though. If you ever meet Rocky, don’t mention the tap.
Catsitting…who?
Your Cat Magazine 2012
Last month I told you all about Rocky-the-tabby’s experiences in his new (but extremely old) spooky family home. After a few early wind-related shocks, my column ended with Rocky settled and comfortable in his new home, even if the place still gave me the jitters.
All that talk of hauntings and spooked cat-sitters reminded of a story from many years ago – about a completely different pet sitter and a completely different tabby. A couple, friends of my parents in fact, had recently had to have their beloved family tabby put to sleep, a week before their yearly skiing holiday. The tabby, imaginatively named Tabby, had had a good, happy life. The couple didn’t mention Tabby to their new pet sitter when she visited a few days later, to meet the menagerie of rabbits, budgies, gerbils, lizards & fish that also lived in the house.
Anyway, the pet sitter turned up for a first visit, and was very surprised to find that alongside all the other animals in need of feeding, there was also a cat. A tabby. This was in the days before mobiles and her best guess was that the couple had been a little slapdash and forgotten to mention her! A good professional, she didn’t worry too much about it and soon located cat bowls and a good supply of cat food in a cupboard, giving weight to her theory. She couldn’t help noticing though, that the cat had rather erratic behavioural patterns, always appearing nervous and distant, and often vanishing for days.
When the couple arrived home two weeks later, they were surprised to find all of Tabby’s old bowls back in use, and an open tin of cat food in the fridge. A note left by the petsitter filled them in on all the goings-on of the last two weeks, and also mocked them for forgetting to mention there was also a cat to feed! Confused, they immediately phoned the pet sitter, and asked the burning question ‘What Cat!?’ The pet sitter gave a startlingly accurate description of the late Tabby. Shivers ran down their spine. It was difficult to determine who was the more shaken – the couple who’d just been informed their cat had returned from the grave, or the pet sitter who suddenly realised she’d just spent two weeks visiting a ghost.
The story could easily have ended there, and Tabby would always have been remembered as the ‘Cat Who’d Risen From the Dead’. But that night came one final twist. As the couple settled down to watch TV, they heard the catflap spring open. They looked at one another in alarm, and hurried to the kitchen. There, standing in the middle of the room was tabby. Well, at least a tabby…not Tabby, but amazingly similar to her! Not a ghostly visitation at all then, but rather a stray chancer who’d ventured through an open catflap and been surprised to find a welcoming girl who fed and pampered her for two weeks!
The new tabby, who’s name my parents can’t recall (probably ‘Greyie’ or ‘Various Coloured Feline’ or something), eventually moved in with the couple for many years and lived a very happy life with them. They always say that cats find us, rather than the other way round, and this cat certainly found a new home at exactly the right time. Or…was it a new home….Woooooo!
Life’s a Stage
Your Cat Magazine 2012
Quite a few months ago I mentioned that, due to the lack of understandable conversation most cats are able to offer, I tend to sing to myself while visiting cats. I also mentioned that many cats aren’t too fond of this habit.
Well, the other day, I took my usually quite unobtrusive singing to a whole new level. Two of my newest clients, Trinny & Susannah (I know!) were happily munching on their meal while I got down to the business end of the job and began clearing out their incredibly well used litter tray. As this activity obviously makes me very happy, I found myself humming the opening bars of the Morcambe and Wise classic ‘Bring Me Sunshine’.
Trinny and Susannah stopped eating and looked up in horror. Trinny & Susannah’s owners are actually from the world of showbiz, and presumably this was something well below the standards they’d come to expect. A biscuit dropped from Susannah’s mouth. I immediately revised my original estimation of their expressions from horror to surprise, as I noted that although their eyes were like saucers and Susannah’s tongue was poking out, their ears were fully upright. Then a remarkable thing happened - Trinny began purring. I carried on, upping the ante a little from humming to singing. The effect was wholly unexpected. Both cats began walking around, brushing heads and bodies together and purring loudly.
Greatly encouraged by the fact my feline audience now appeared to be dancing to my atrociously off-key crooning, and with the assurance of a man in a house devoid of any humans to observe his strange behaviour, I began adding the now legendary Morcambe and Wise dance steps to my routine.
The scene was truly bizarre – two cats pacing around together in a mutual purring frenzy, and an overweight bloke twirling around singing and kicking his legs to the side, only managing to sing the odd word through self induced chuckling.
At the end of the performance, both Trinny and Susannah went back to their bowls and all was as normal, as if none of the very odd last two minutes had ever happened. As we settled down for a brushing session in the lounge, I wondered what on earth my customers would have made of the scene that had just unfolded in their dining room. There are times when I’m sure my antics must look a little insane. But, having said that, I think most of us have the capacity to do some fairly eccentric things when in private – as most air-guitarists would agree.
As I tidied up a little, I said goodbye to the girls, grabbed my things and made for the door. It was then that I noticed the CCTV security camera on the dining room wall. My cheeks immediately burned bright red as I realised the full implications of this tiny device. No way I’m even going to attempt to explain, and I’ll just have to hope they don’t watch the recording any time soon. Or maybe I should pre-empt them by adding ‘After Dinner Cabaret – no charge’ to my invoice.
Who amongst my customers could possibly complain about that!
Risky Business
Your Cat Magazine 2012
Apart from the obvious requirements of cat sitting (from my own point of view, a cat, somewhere to sit it, and an owner who’s not in the place at the time) there are other less obvious things that need to be considered. One major consideration is sensible security.
I saw a fellow cat sitter parked in a neighbour’s drive recently. I know he was a catsitter because emblazoned on the side of his van was a massive cat’s face and the words ‘FEEDING YOUR CAT WHILE YOU’RE AWAY!!’ Two definites to take from that – he wasn’t there to fix the toilet and the owners must be away. Advertising an unoccupied house doesn’t represent great security.
Another requirement of course, is marketing. Nobody is going to ask me to look after Thomas and Tilly if they have no idea I exist. My own peculiar style of marketing involves me driving slowly around streets, looking for houses that may contain cats. It’s a simple process – any house displaying a cat ornament gets a small card through the letterbox; any house where there’s a pointy-eared silhouette in the window, watching my every move, gets a big glossy card! I do sometimes wonder how much of a ‘security risk’ this technique may make me seem. I imagine if someone asked ‘I’ve been watching you, driving up and down this road - what are you up to?’, the reply ‘It’s okay mate, I’m just looking for cats’ might be slightly worrying.
A third (obvious) requirement is a good knowledge of cats. Having worked with a veterinary nurse for a good while, I understand most aspects of cat behaviour & health. However, having worked with a great many eccentric customers for even longer, I know every old-wives-tale and peculiar tip going. And…it’s the tips that usually do the trick.
For instance, if a cat starts weeing in the corner of the room, ‘use a deterrent spray’ says conventional wisdom. ‘No! Put the cats food bowl in the area they’re weeing’, says old-wife wisdom. Whilst the old-wife wisdom in this case may sound like a callous act of revenge (possibly in the hope that Thomas will wander into the said corner half asleep and pee on his own biscuits) the technique is rather clever. It’s based on the fact that most animals, domesticated or in the wild, will never carry out their ablutions in the place they eat (goldfish accepted of course, poor things). On the thousands of occasions I’ve tried it out (well, twice I think) it’s worked perfectly. You may have to move the food bowl around a bit, but in the end the cat gives up and begrudgingly return to his or her litter tray, no doubt with ears back and muttering darkly of filthy human tricks.
So anyway, there you have it. The three main skills of cat-sitting: 1) the ability not to let anybody know you’re a catsitter while you’re catsitting, 2) the ability to make everyone believe you’re a burglar or deviant when you do want them to know you’re catsitting, and 3) doing everything old-wives tell you to do.
Of course, the above skills wouldn’t translate well to any other CV in the corporate or industrial world and should never be listed as ‘attributes’ unless wishing to spend the rest of your life surrounded by cats. Which I do!
Nikita Jones
Your Cat Magazine 2012
Just lately, I seem to have become a pin-cushion for cats. I’ve long had a few feisty felines on my books, happy to record their dental records in my flesh, but a couple of new clients have raised the bar somewhat (Coco Centauro and Nikita Jones– I’m talking about YOU!).
The jet-black Coco’s owners had mentioned his dog-like habit of attacking postmen. This ball of black fur with eyes apparently hurled himself bodily at his letterbox every day as the postman arrived, not attempting to catch the mail, but to rip the postie’s fingers off. The fact that all mail is now left on the doorstep is testament to how successful Coco has been with his hobby.
I, knowing all this and being reminded daily while picking up the post, still managed to poke my fingers through the letterbox. It was my last visit, you see, and I was returning Mrs Centauro’s keys after locking the door. Believe it or not, Coco didn’t attack when I did this. However, I then wiggled my fingers about inside the letterbox (of course I did!) to check the keys had dropped out of reach. How clever a thing to do was that? Coco was so impressed at my apparent playfulness that, upon seeing a full set of four fingers and a thumb suddenly appear in his hallway and wiggle at him, he helpfully attempted to remove them. The sudden strong pull of frenzied teeth and claws was enough to cause me to lurch forward and headbutt the door knocker. My shouts of pain as I attempted to withdraw my hand were enough to appall a passing pedestrian, who no doubt must have wondered why my hand was wrist-deep in a letterbox and I appeared to be swearing profusely at a door.
If Coco hadn’t caused enough damage, the beautiful and sleek Bengal Nikita Jones made sure the job was done properly. Did you know that, unlike the majority of cats, most Bengal’s love water? They will happily splash in sinks and baths and like nothing better than jumping around in showers and under sprinklers. This unusual trait apparently comes from their wild cousin the Asian Leopard cat, a prolific hunter of fish and amphibians. By total coincidence, Nikita attacked me in the shower. I wasn’t taking a shower in a customer’s home - that would be overdoing my welcome a little. I’ve already had enough problems with CCTV. No, Nikita’s litter tray was stored on the floor of a walk in shower unit. Well…crawl-in in my case, as I was on my hands and knees clearing out the day’s ablutions and grumbling to myself.
Before the moment of impact, Nikita’s behaviour had provided no clues that she enjoys scalping people. As she landed on my hunched back I gave a small laugh of amusement, which quickly changed to a pathetically high-pitched wail as Nikita determinedly climbed her way up my back, claw by claw, until reaching my head. The next few seconds were much too horrific to relate here, but accidentally plunging both hands into a dirty litter tray didn’t exactly improve matters, I can tell you.
So, quite a painful month overall. And Nikita Jones– if I’d wanted my ears pierced, I’d have flipping well asked!
A Traditional Christmas
Your Cat Magazine Christmas 2012
It’s Christmas again, and so into the busiest cat-sitting time of the year. Now that I have a borrowed 4X4 at hand, I’m no longer afraid of the snow, and know for sure that all my feline charges will be getting their turkey dinners and stockings full of jingling balls, toy mice and catnip reindeer.
Traditional ghost stories are a staple of the festive season, so I thought I’d tell you a spooky story about a cat named Molly!
This was told to me first hand, and it always sends a little shiver down my spine. Molly the tortie had a good life, and finally died peacefully after 19 very happy years. She was buried in the garden, and although greatly missed, the family’s main consolation was the fact she’d had a good innings and it really had been her time to go. Molly didn’t think so.
A couple of months later, the family’s eldest son Ben was watching TV when he clearly heard the catflap click open and, out of the corner of his eye, saw Molly stroll casually up the stairs. It was, until recently, such a common sight that for a few moments Ben thought nothing of it. Then it suddenly hit him (very quick, is Ben). Not only had he possibly just seen a ghost, he’d also heard a catflap open that wasn’t actually there anymore.
Feeling as cold as ice, and not just a little spooked, he walked very slowly up the stairs to the only open door, and looked inside the spare bedroom. The room was empty, but there was a small indentation in the duvet, exactly where Molly used to sleep. Thinking he must be going ever so slightly mad, he told his mother who, far from being surprised, told him that exactly the same thing had happened to her a few weeks previously. Nothing more was seen of Molly, and the family settled in to a ‘we must have imagined that’ state of mind. Almost a year later though, they had friends to stay and put them up in the spare room. The following morning, when the friends were asked how they’d slept, they replied ‘very well’. Their only complaint was about the cat disturbing them in the night, getting settled at their feet. Woooo!
And, to finish off, I’d like to give a mention to another cat named Molly. Molly was with the RSPCA and, very happily for her, given a good home by a client of mine named Louise, who I’m proud to say was a member of our Paralympic Basketball team! I’ve been very happy to look after Molly, and have nothing but admiration for all those Olympians and Paralympians who made the summer so wonderful.
However, there was just one very slight problem with the happy coming together of Louise and Molly. Molly was given her name by the RSPCA, and Louise’s surname just happens to be…Sugden.
So, I now have the very great pleasure of being able to announce, with absolute honesty ‘I catsit Molly Sugden’. There’s not many catsitters can say that!
Merry Christmas to you and all your furry friends!
Scallies
Your Cat Magazine 2013
I’m looking after a couple of real ‘boy’ cats at the moment. There is absolutely no mischief this roguish pair of one-year-olds won’t get up to.
If Alfie’s got his face in a food bowl, Sam will jump on his head. Alfie’s stunned look as he surfaces with half a sachet of gravy dripping from his nose is a priceless sight. And, if Sam’s chattering quietly at birds through the kitchen window, Alfie will swoop down from the units above, taking Alfie in the midriff and sending them both into a heap on the draining board.
Alfie’s specialty though, is sliding down the banister. He does this magnificently and with full intent. He’ll climb on carefully at the very top, let all four white paws drop either side, and then slide straight down like a ginger missile – always regaining his footing remarkably quickly as he nears the bottom, before gracefully disembarking in the manner of a skipping foal. There’s nothing graceful about Sam though. Sam has an uncannily un-catlike ability to never land on all four feet. In fact, he’s better at hitting the ground sideways – quite a feat for a cat. So, while Alfie zips down the banister at breakneck speeds, an over-excited Sam will often leap for him, miss completely, and crash to the floor at about the same time as Alfie disembarks. It’s quite a spectacle!
