2002. Well, the kittens hadn't been neutered, but they seemed loved enough, although they'd kittened and now in early summer mournful little voices were to be heard every night, calling the local toms up and down the street in this inner city area. And the toms were ready and eager.
Must have been early July, sitting on my doorstep, I met the gang playing on the pavement. The two original tortoiseshells and a slender ginger with a white nose, bib and paws. At this time I was catless; my old cats had died and I didn't want to replace them, but the ginger and I looked at each other and 'he' as I thought, ran past me, giving my hand a brief headbutt...later I learned this kitten was totally wild and uncatchable. I had been honoured.
I was also hooked in. The 'owner' it seemed was rarely home nowadays and the cats had moved out and were basically feral. One neighbour and a relative were concerned; the rest just wittered. The CPL and the RSPCA were aware of a potential feral colony and had caught and rescued some kittens - now the girls were pregnant again.
I gave them names - always fatal. The brighter tortoiseshell was Charlotte the Harlot - she was so soppy, such a tart, she'd go with anyone! The dark tortoiseshell was already swelling with kittens when I got to know her and so she became Tess - with a bellyful of little D'Urbervilles. Ginger, who I assumed was Charlotte's kitten, began to bulge too - so not a lad - and first she was Gingerella but then - Emily, after my favourite poets, Bronte and Dickinson. So that was that really.
Things progressed pretty fast. The girls came for food; Tess gave birth first, then Charlotte, who had won the heart of another neighbour by now, gave birth in his house and was taken with her kittens to a CPL shelter. I wanted to get Emily into my house before her kittens came but I was afraid of any repercussions if I 'stole' her - silly me. I ought to have shut her up in the house and just kept her. I would now!
In the meantime...my cellar has an opening window and had become known as the 'drop-in centre' for the girls, and also, judging by the smell, a tom or two. There was a tray, water, biscuits - and one morning Emily and Tess turned up with an adolescent kitten, a funny little bowlegged thing, black with the same white bib and paws as themselves. 'Hullo, Mouse,' I said, and Mouse she remained.
Emily was near her time. She visited me at 5am one morning, scoffed a whole tin of tuna, trilling with pleasure - and then disappeared for the day. How I wish I'd lured her in and kept her! I saw her late that afternoon; she came across the street, slender again, still bloodstained round her back end, sat down, and said, 'Mew.' I ran to fetch her water and milk and food.
At the time there was a derelict garage in the street; it soon became obvious that that was where Tess's kittens were. The doors were ajar - just enough of a gap to push a marge carton full of food or water through and watch them. Eventually, after consultation with the CPL, I was cheeky enough to grab these kittens and also get access to the garage to search for Emily's. No joy - but Tess's kits came to live with me until the CPL would take them - 2 gingers, a black and a most stunning longhaired dilute tortie, pure smokiness with one cream blaze down her nose...never mind how pretty they are, snapped another rescue worker, they won't get homes unless they're socialised! So we socialised. In the bathroom where they couldn't hide from me. In truth they'd already learned to yell at me for food and if this peculiar tall creature wanted to talk to them and play silly games with feathers to get them to climb on to her knee, so what. There was also a tray.
Coming out of that filthy junk filled garage, I had no hopes of their hygiene, but they recognised a tray when they saw it - and never made a mistake. By the time they left they were well-fed, clean, and fairly confident and I was told that they all found homes.
In the meantime...Emily. Tess didn't seem to miss her kittens (she had Mouse) and they were accustomed to the 'drop-in centre' routine, where everyone rolled up for the evening meal of wet food and tuna sometimes too. One evening there was a stranger.
A tiny ginger and white kitten, scarcely weaned, tucked up next to Tess. Omg Emily! I ran upstairs to text the CPL worker. When I returned to the cellar there was another kitten, a ginger girl.
I never saw her do it, but Emily must have brought her kittens, one by one, across the street and down into the cellar. By the time she finished, there were five. All ginger. Four weeks old, so they couldn't leave her. She'd very sensibly moved them to the source of food and care and I turned the back bedroom into a nursery and that was that.
In the meantime the CPL neutered Tess and Mouse and I now had a houseful of cats. I have an old outside loo in my yard; I fixed that up as an outdoor shelter for them in case they wanted to stay with me - or go 'home'. They'd been 'midline' spayed so that the deed might not be too public - but I never had any trouble from the erstwhile 'owner', who by now seemed long gone.
When Em's kittens were old enough the CPL took them. 'Are they tame? Does the mother let you touch them?' Didn't she just! She practically dumped them on me so she could get some peace! Those kittens climbed your legs and bit yer bum! I was very proud of my heap of large sleek placid gingers on collection day - three homes waiting already. Emily and I missed them, but we had company - Tess and Mouse moved in and I had three cats!
Em was neutered by now and they all slept on the bed. They all had the same mannerism, of greeting you with an outstretched paw. It was quite eerie, on a dark night, to go into the bedroom and see three white-tipped paws shooting out to say hello.
I tried various names out on Mouse, but she has always stayed Mouse, though it's a silly name for a cat. She shot up into a long-legged plush-coated young beauty, always very timid, as she is still, but very affectionate. Thirteen this year, still seems like she's that little kitten. With the loudest purr I've ever heard.
As for Tess. My Tessy Tiger. In January 2007 she wandered into the street, where she'd so often roamed and basked. It happened so fast. A car came past...and Tess was still standing. The car never stopped - I don't think the driver realised what had happened, but Tess's head had caught a glancing blow. Thank heaven I was with her and could get her straight to the vet just round the corner. But it was the end. Eight years ago nearly and I'm filling up as I write this. Darling Tess, think about you every day.
My garden's wired in now and the cats don't roam. Two of the toms moved in and were neutered (I've told their story in 'feral toms in the house') They're no longer with me but three years ago I acquired naughty Molly - another ginger!
And Emily. She's an old lady now. Can't believe she's fourteen this year. She was a thin pale ginger when she arrived - now she's a chunky marmalade, but she's beginning to look a bit thin-faced, as they do. However I hope to keep her for a good while yet - can't imagine life without her!
By 'eck, this is a cat-athon! If you've got this far - thank you for reading!
