A tail in three cities

Melbourne

Meet Emily (left) and Jet (right).

Not long after we moved to Melbourne, we decided it was time to get a couple of kittens. J and I both had always had special cats in our lives, but in the years we'd been living in the UK, we'd missed having cats. Being back in Australia, we felt the timing was right, so we headed off to the Cat Protection Society of Victoria to adopt some little 'uns. The plan was that we would choose one each.

As soon as we walked in, we spotted Emily. She was tiny and clinging on to the side of the cage she was in. She had little shaved patches on her front legs and a  huge shaved patch on her side with stitches poking out - the result of being desexed only the day before. Justin pulled her out for a cuddle, she purred, and that was that. Decision made. Stroking her, he asked, "Can we get her?" I replied, "If you don't choose her, I will".


While they cuddled some more, I wandered around the other cages to choose a brother or sister for her. I pulled out a couple of others for cuddles, but then my attention was drawn to a black kitten who was trampling his cage mates in his efforts to get my attention. He had a loud meow, and implored me with his eyes to give him a cuddle, so I pulled him out. He had the loudest rumble of a purr, and I'm a sucker for a loud purr. That was that. Decision made.

Melbourne

This was seven years ago, and those kittens became our babies. Emily endeared us by climbing into our bed at night, and snuggling up to us - when she was small, I often woke up to find a warm, purring bundle wrapped over my neck. She was the 'good' one who never had accidents. Jet, on the other hand, had his moments with forgetting to use the litter, but wasn't too bad. We were in a first floor apartment, so they were mostly indoor cats. Jet was 'special' - he was easily spooked by things and used to have us in stitches with his springy jumps of surprise. We joked that he got signals from the mothership in space, and he loved to spend time up on the highest surface possible - it was where he felt the safest.

Sydney, House #1

Sydney, House #1

After a year in Melbourne, we returned to Sydney. Happy to be back with family and friends, but I was also surprised at how much I was going to miss the life we'd carved for ourselves in Melbourne. We found ourselves a small terrace house to rent in Sydney's Inner West, and Emily and Jet immediately set about getting familiar with outdoor life during the day. This house had a cat flap - handy - which we closed at night to keep them in.

Sydney, House #1

For the most part, they were great mates and complemented each other well. Emily loved her tummy rubs, which we happily indulged her in. Who can resist a fluffy expanse of creamy caramel stripes and spots? Her paws were always a forbidden zone, but Jet loved his paws being rubbed and touched. This set him apart from any cat I'd ever known, and I loved that about him. His tummy was to be touched at one's own risk, though. It triggered the frisky kangaroo kicks and swipes, but always in a playful way and never malicious.

Things were cruising along nicely, then J and I decided we'd been practicing this nurturing stuff for long enough - without killing any small defenceless creatures - and it was time for a real baby (pot plants were another story, though). Along came the Faery.

My worries about the cats jumping into her cot and smothering her proved to be silly. If anything, they avoided her. A cat just can't relax around creatures that make randomly loud, squawking sounds. Apart from the occasional look of disdain in her direction, there was little interaction... although they did try to compete for attention at times, especially when I was breastfeeding. Both of them would try to find a spot on my lap, which made for interesting times.

Sydney, House #1

This is one of the last photos I have of Jet.

Maybe it was the Faery's refusal to sleep at night, or the noise she made, but he began demanding to go outside in the middle of the night - something we'd never allowed after losing past beloved cats to the roads. However, Jet had a meow to rival any of the oriental cat breeds. In other words, he was loud. And constant. He could be a broken record. He even reached up and rattled the old door knob on our bedroom door from the other side. He was a bugger.

After months of sleep-derivation and losing my sense of humour, I was a zombie. Not wanting anything to potentially wake up the light-sleeping Faery once she was asleep, we caved in to Jet's demands. This only happened for a couple of weeks, then there was a knock on our door at 3am one morning. I knew straight away and was crying before J had even opened the door. A kind passerby (so he claimed) had found him and brought him to us, as Jet's name tag on his collar had our address. His body was cold but hadn't stiffened yet, and we sat up, cuddled him and said our goodbyes. It was almost three years to the day since we'd adopted him.

Nearly four years later, I still blame myself.

Sydney, House #1

As far as fur-babies go, Emily became an only child. She also found herself the sole focus of a determined toddler's attempts to be friends. To this day, it's still a very one-sided friendship, but as the Faery gets older and less heavy-handed, Emily has become more accepting.

Sydney, House #2

We moved to another house after our landlady announced she was selling - we didn't want to deal with the hassle of home inspections and wondering if the new owner would keep us as tenants, so we got out while the going was good. We found a house not far away, on a hill, with a backyard that faced west. Perfect for a cat to catch those afternoon rays of sunshine.

Sydney, House #2

Sydney, House #2

Life was pretty good for Emily... most of the time.

Then our new landlords decided they wanted their house back. I was heavily pregnant with Miss Pie. Bugger.

Sydney, House #3

The next house had a huge old tree out the back, which Emily enjoyed climbing. She wasn't terribly impressed with the move, though, and she sensed things were going to change even more.

Our cat, who had never peed anywhere naughty, pissed in the yet-to-be-installed baby car seat. I cleaned it, left it to dry, then discovered yet more cat pee in it.

I didn't take many photos of Emily in this home. Too much was happening.

I had my second baby.

My best friend had her first baby.

J was offered The Job in Los Angeles. We had barely unpacked from the last move, and had to start all over again for an even bigger move.

Emily then pissed in the stroller. Little bugger.

However, being part of our family, we never doubted that we would bring her with us to L.A. Besides, it felt like too much of an imposition to ask anyone to mind her for a few years.

We boarded Emily for the final week we were in Sydney, and for the first couple of weeks we were in Los Angeles. We wanted to be settled somewhere before flying her over, and avoid having her stay in our cramped hotel room.

Los Angeles

Emily finally arrived (and I had a super-duper new camera!), looking like the proverbial that a cat had dragged in - she had gotten covered in her drinking water on the plane, in icy cold temperatures, which gave her a wretched cold. I'd never seen her so sick, but she got better quickly. Little trooper.

But she was less than impressed by her ordeal and new surroundings. She pissed in Miss Pie's bouncer. She pissed in the Faery's little suitcase. She pissed in my suitcase. She pissed on a pile of my underwear in the closet. She crapped in one of the bathtubs, on several occasions. Charming. I'm pretty sure that on each of those occasions, her access to her cat litter had not been obstructed. They were very deliberate acts on her part... and I was pissed off. I was furious, and sick of cleaning cat pee. It got to the point where I had to lock her in the bathroom when we went out during the day because I did not trust her. Thankfully, it was just a phase, and she stopped doing this. I'm not proud to say I was ready to give her away.

Los Angeles

Now? She just has to deal with the unwanted gropings of Miss Pie, who is yet to master being gentle. I mostly feel sorry for Emily, though, and let her sleep in our room with the door shut. All day. Because now that middle age is setting in, sleeping is all she wants to do these days.

Mind you, a few eye pokes and tail tugs are a small price to pay for this:

Los Angeles

If reincarnation exists? I'd like to put in a request for domestic cat. It's not a bad life at all.