Sometimes they take your breath away ...

[Lilith]

Like anyone who lives with animals, I'm always amazed by their practical good sense, instinct and trust in their less sensitive human companions.

I'll list three instances:-

My first Siamese, housetraining her kittens. I knew they could do this, but it was so touching to see her go to the tray, call them, scrape with a paw in the litter, and give them their first lesson on what proper grown-up cats did. And the time when, intently watching them at play, she singled one out, picked it up, dumped it in the tray, and the little thing performed on cue!

She wasn't quite as zealous with later litters I'm afraid, as it became clear that motherhood interfered with her bond with me; she was glad to retire, bless her.

My avatar cat, Emily, who was feral, 15 years ago, with a litter of kittens ... somewhere. Possibly in a junk-filled garage across the street. I've told this story before, I know, but hope it bears telling again.

My cellar has an opening window and in those days was known as the 'drop-in centre.' There was water, biscuits and a tray, and my three regulars, Emily, Tess, and Tess's kitten Mouse, would call in for a plateful of wet food too. Judging by the smell, the toms, elusive in those days, used the cellar too, but boys will be boys.

One evening I went down to see if anyone was in the cellar. Yes. Tess. With a tiny ball of ginger fuzz curled up by her side. Oh, Emily! The CP were involved and I ran upstairs to leave a phone message. When I returned to the cellar, there were two tiny balls of ginger fuzz etc etc ... This went on until there were five.

I wish I'd seen her do it, carrying those kittens one by one across the street. Of course, feral mothers will always move their kittens to a source of food, but I felt so honoured. The kittens were only a month old; I turned the back bedroom into a nursery and they stayed until old enough for the CP to rehome them.

One of my cat books says that ginger females are sterile. You could have fooled me. Emily had five. All ginger!

The last story is a snakey one and concerns Shahi, my royal python. I bought him when I was totally ignorant, from a reptile shop where six little coiled bodies, with their tiger-eye markings and sheen, bunched together in one enclosure. No hide, which a snake needs to feel secure, and hatchlings should be kept separately in order to monitor their progress in eating etc. They were 'captive farmed' which I thought meant that they'd been reared in some sort of facility ... no. A snake bred in captivity is 'captive-bred'. A 'captive farmed' royal python has been hatched from an egg 'harvested' in thousands in West Africa, and imported for the pet trade. That little thing, to have survived all that, and that journey, to end up in a bare enclosure with everyone gawping in. And royals are the most private of snakes.

These were being sold as 'guaranteed strike feeders'. Shahi wasn't. He didn't even eat. The shop said to bring him back or try assist-feeding. This isn't the same as force-feeding, by the way, which is brutal, stresses the snake and is a last resort. I went online and got an education in assist-feeding. You hold the snake on your lap, and with a defrosted and warmed rodent in your other hand, you gently wiggle the rodent's head between the snake's lips. As the head touches the roof of the snake's mouth it's to be hoped that you've triggered the feeding response, so that the snake grips the prey and begins to eat by itself. Even so, as you can imagine, this is quite stressful, especially for an already stressed small snake.

I agonised. Wouldn't it it be better to take him back to the shop? Weren't they experts? Then a member of staff confessed to me that they'd no idea, among that batch of royals, who'd been feeding and who hadn't. One was left, and was having to be force-fed.

Looks like it's thee and me, Shahi, I said, and so we sat down one day, me armed with a small mouse. I held him securely, he opened his mouth quite placidly for the mouse, then - BANG! He coiled hard round my wrist and gripped the mouse and took it down. A snake's gullet distends when it feeds and it looks as if it's smiling a great fat snakey smile.

Shahi was smiling all right, and so was I. He'd trusted me. He never looked back, went on to eating rats (more suitable) and grew apace. It might sound sad, but that moment was one of the high points of my life ...

Well, enough about us. I'm sure you guys have had much more exciting experiences - over to you

[Ruth B]

Your story about Emily reminds me about what happened with out Mitzy.

I was in my teens at the time, and my sister was a couple of years older. We had a couple of male cats at the time (both neutered) and an early form of cat flap, it was a hole cut in the back door with a wooden flap that could be put across to shut it. A few days before my parents were due to go on holiday (my sister and I were staying at home as our only remaining grandparent lived with us and my parents thought we were grown up enough to be left) Mitzy walked into the house and decided it was a good place to stay. She looked rather bloated and in ignorance we suspected worms, but it was decided that we would see if she really was going to stay and leave taking her to the vet until my parents returned.

When my parents left, Mitzy disappeared for a couple of days, and we thought that was the last we would see of her, then she wandered back in, starving and thin!

We searched, our garden, our neighbours gardens, the orchard at the back of the house and found nothing.

Our house was a large Georgian affair and at night the cats had the run of the back passage, the kitchen and the dining room, covers were put on the kitchen sides and the dining table as the cats would insist on going on them given half a chance. At the time I used to go riding on a Sunday morning, I would therefore be up early, grab a quick breakfast and then cycle down to the stables. It was about 4 weeks after Mitzy had come back to us looking thin, I came down to find her with two kittens on the kitchen work surface, another kitten was exploring the area behind it where the old fire place had been partially closed in leaving a shelf at work top height, the fourth kitten was on the floor behind the kitchen door, whether it had fallen off or had never made it to the work surface we will never know. Mitzy was a tuxie and so were two kittens, the other were pure black. It was a sight and feeling that I will never forget, and I was always impressed at how she had managed to bring all four kittens into the house from where ever and get at least three onto the kitchen side.

We found homes for three of the kittens when they were about 6 - 7 weeks old (that was normal back in those days), but as the fourth was the runt of the litter we decided to keep her for a bit. Unfortunately Mitzy began to develop behavioural problems, and the kitten was learning them from her. My parents discussed the problem with the vet and in those days, before pet behaviourists, we were given three options. A pen in the garden where it wouldn't matter is she messed everywhere, but due to the nature of the cat flap she would have to live her life confined to it. Hope the problem went away and risk both her and the kitten being condemned, or have her put to sleep in hope that the kittens normal clean instinct took over. We couldn't keep her confined to a pen, so we opted for the third option, even though it was heartbreaking all round, it was the only time we had a healthy cat put to sleep. The kitten luckily never looked back and we decided that we would keep her.

All four kittens had been given silly names as we thought all would be re named by their new owners, so we had Air Brakes as she had been trying to hiss at us on that first morning and that was just what she had sounded like, Itzy and Bitzy for the two black ones and Fangs as she kept trying to chew anything she could get her teeth into.

This was how we ended up with a cat called Fangs.

[bobbys girl]

One Summer Judy and I had a holiday on a canal boat (never again! It rained the whole week and mum sent Judy's boyfriend to look for us with a 'Red Cross parcel' - a change of clothes and bottle of rum ) One afternoon we had stopped on a sweeping bend in the canal - it formed a loop around a field with horses in it.

While I started tea Judy took some carrots back around the path to the field gate. One horse came over for a sniff, then went off and fetched another horse. As they came towards her Judy realised the other horse was blind and the first was guiding it. She got back and said ' you did see that didn't you?' I don't think you would have believed it if you had not seen it for yourself.

The first horse nudged and guided the second up to the gate and waited until he had some carrots before having one his/herself. We think we are so superior.

The second story is about Bob. When we first found him, we had another cat, Lily, who had just turned up out of the blue. No one claimed her so we decided to keep her and had her spayed. I can only think the hormones must still have been circulating, because she took to Bob straight away and suckled him. As far as she was concerned he was HER baby. A year after she arrived she vanished without trace. With all the obstacles in his young life, I don't think he would have survived without her. We owe that little cat a great debt.

[Lilith]

Aww, great stories What a shame about Mitzy, Ruth, and an awful decision to have to make too Bobbys girl that's just amazing about those horses, and as for Willow and Bob ...

I once had a male neuter who let a new kitten curl up next to his stomach and paddle and 'suckle', though I doubt if he came in to milk; she was only 6 weeks or so and she was missing her mother (RSPCA stray) but luckily in good health. He was such a gentle boy.