Still, this tale is mostly a cat lovers view.....but very true, nevertheless. Or, as I always stress, my view of the truth.
Today I'm talking about a yard cat. Oh yes, he had the run of the house, but also the freedom of the grounds too. He was a sturdy, strong and friendly beast. In my mind, I was replacing my lost Siamese and he did care for me...in his absolute, feline way, but not in the ideal way for me. In fact what he eventually did, appalled me. But animals? You cannot explain concepts to Animals can you. Although a part of me, believes he knew exactly what he was doing. Perhaps not just my reaction to it.
My beloved brother, trying to keep on top of the ever encroaching 'bush'.
It was when I was living in Northern Territory, Australia that this particualrly cat found me. At the time it was magical. Sometimes, when the moon was full, I liked to go bush walking. Only around the perimeter of the twenty five acres that was my brothers land, but to me, fairly newly arrived to the red lands of Australia, it was a cross between an African adventure and a return to the wild, country living of my childhood in Norfolk, England. Growing up, I always liked and enjoyed the dark. I was something of a solitary child, despite my smaller brother. I felt an attraction to being alone in the dark. There was always something friendly about being alone with the moon and the stars. The skies over the flat lands of Norfolk, are vast, something to behold. Somewhat isolated, I was accustomed to being surrounded by nature. To taking my time to listen and watch what went on around me. Especially at night I felt at peace with it, at one with it.....
The Norfolk night sky...a familiar sight.
That is why I felt quite at home doing something similar in Australia. One particular night in Australia, out walking in the moonlight. I saw a cat in the bush, the bush notice, not a bush. A rough area of land left to self seed and grow what and how it pleases in the red, sandy soil of Darwin. Which often consisted of many rough, scraggly looking manuka bushes. Which, however, the bees make into wonderful, healing honey. Long grass, seared of colour by the burning sun, and a good scattering of small, spindly trees. Trees tend to burn before they growing very large, either an accidental burn or a deliberate one set by the fire service to protect the people. In cutting down on the amount of flamables near to housing stock. This makes the pale barked trees, often black with burn marks for several feet up from the ground. Many of the trees and undergrowth need this burn to re generate.
A controlled fire burn in Australia
So, I walked, ambled really, through the bush, under a full moon. Enjoying the moonlight, the silence, the stars and the coolness of the night hours. Hearing stealthy sounds nearby, I noticed a black cat following me on my walk, quite unafraid. I don't remember if I touched him, but I talked to him. He followed me for twenty minutes or more, until we came to my home. He did not hesitate to follow me in, and neither did I hesitate to let him. I considered it a lucky meeting. What could be better than a black cat crossing my path, watching me, guarding me all that way in the dark. Looking with his yellow eyes, as we walked together through the long grass and the trees. It felt good, it felt right and so he came to live with me, to share my house. The general consensus was that he must be an abandoned cat, people often discard cats in the bush, thinking they can feed themselves easily there.....on birds, lizards, small bush animals and so forth. So, I thought he must be one such abandoned feline. In this case, a lucky one. He certainly wasn't hungry that night, distaining food I offered.
My lucky find, my black cat had such a nice nature. Laid back, perhaps describes him best. Independent yes, but he would often sit on my lap in the middle of the night. That was the time I enjoyed music TV. which at that time, went on all night. Only my brother and his wife lived nearby, so I had no neighbours to worry about. Always loving music, I could play the music channel all night if I so decided. Watching the accompanying videos to my hearts content. I loved my music, even though I could, and can still play nothing, I enjoyed singing along. I might sometimes settle in the swing chair to watch. At others I might leap about like a crazy person. It was one of the cooler times of the day.
You did not want to do much leaping in the heat of the day, I can tell you. In the extreme temperature of Northern Territory, you tended to avoid doing anything much in the middle of the day if you could. If you must be out, it was normal to become wet, and dry again, at least twice. Either from the extreme heat, or quick torrential rain showers. You rise early there, and don't sleep until late at night. I would like to say we enjoyed siesta as on the continent, but we didn't. Most of us had to work all day.
Darwin, Northern Territory, Ausitralia.
Whatever I did, he followed, my sleek black cat. He watched me swim in the pit my brother had had dug for a swimming hole. He watched me work out with my sister in law and watched as we chatted and drank coffee together after, or I alone. Everywhere I went, his yellow eyes were on me! His contended body curled, or stretched languidly. He settled in well, made free with the house, and the garden, or part bush as it was. He didn't seem aggressive at all, if he had fed himself out there before I found him, he showed no signs of it now. He would investigate the lizards in the yard, nose to their hilariously 'frozen' body. Despite their attempt at pretending they were not there, he did not attempt to catch them, harm them. The same with the birds, he watched, but never touched. I kept him well fed, growling at him if he looked too closely at any birds. I thought we had the ideal understanding. Events later showed how foolish it is to attribute human behaviour patterns to animals. Or, should that be cats....
I had a favourite bird, quite large and very pretty. About the size of a blackbird. It had black feathers, with an iridescent blue shine to its wings. It came to sing to me most days, seemingly un afraid, standing proudly as it turned its head, and sang. After my work out, as I sat having coffee, it would sit on the crossbar of the bench press and sing his little heart out. It was wonderful, such a long and beautiful song. I felt privileged to have such a virtuoso performance to myself. Then, after a whole season of singing, he failed to show for a day, then two days, then three. I put food out, I sat very quietly at the usual times, and places. I even moved the chairs back a little, to encourage the visits to resume. Nothing! No sign of my beautiful friend at all. I missed it. I hoped he had gone off to mate, as he was always alone. My best friend, with the yellow eyes watched and said nothing. Well, not that I understood anyway. He was just as laid back.
Then, about a week a later, I decided to tidy my shoes, in the bottom of my wardrobe. You know what it's like with shoes. They walk all over the place, especially if I'm looking for a specific pair in a hurry. In Darwin, I seldom wore many of my best shoes. Keeping a couple of comfortable, slip on sandals outside the door. So, to open those wardrobe doors was unusual. Inside, of course, as you have all, probably guessed by now, lying neatly on top of my shoes, was my beautiful friend. The song bird, singing no more. My yellow eyed, lucky, black cat had presented me with a special present. You could almost hear him saying, you like the bird so much, here it is, stored along with your other best stuff! It is fair to say, I could not make sense of it being there.
Of course, I give the cat too much credit. He is only a cat right? But to kill that particular bird, lay him in my personal cupboard, has to be more than coincidence....doesn't it. I don't know how he managed to get in there. I open those doors so seldom. He wasn't hungry, the bird looked unmarked, he still looked beautiful. It really was like a present. A cat is a simple thing in terms of intent isn't it? He cannot rationalise, the killing, the storing, the whole present theory, is mine of course. But it was quite a slap in the face at the time. Despite me telling myself otherwise, it felt a betrayal.
Cute cats. Now for me, the best kind. I and the cat lived there another couple of years, then he moved on, when I moved on. In different directions I might add. The cat and I were not as close after that, I suppose to me, he lost his 'lucky' tag. I tried not to, but I did hold it against him. As for the bird, well he wasn't replaced, I missed him. As such things can never be replaced, he was special. But I shall always remember my special song bird who shared his songs, and my lucky black cat who looked out for me. Darwin, my Wild West town, was a wonderful place to live despite this.
