Percy the rescue cat. (Cats in General)

Member Name: GillMN

Product:	Cats in General
Date:	08/09/08 (90 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: His lifelong devotion.

Disadvantages: Grief when he died.

This is about my Moggy. His full name was Perspex but mostly we called him Percy. He was a beautiful ginger and white Tom.

We got Perspex by accident. My husband and I were staying in the village of Askham, near the Lake district. A colleague had lent us his cottage to which was attached a derelict old outhouse. As we went to bed on our first evening there I thought I could hear a faint mewing. I thought nothing of it and went to sleep. The next day we were out and about enjoying the scenery. We came home tired and went to bed.

I could hear the mewing again and started to wonder where it was coming from. It sounded so sad I had to investigate. My husband knew he wasn't going to get any sleep until I found out, so reluctantly got dressed and joined the search.

Eventually we pinpointed the sound as coming from the adjoining outhouse. There was no way in, the door was padlocked and the windows were either glassed or boarded.
I whacked the old padlock off, saying to my anxious other half that I would replace it in the morning. When we got in, sure enough there was a tiny kitten marooned on a beam high above our heads. It must have fallen through the roof and had no way to get back up.

I climbed up very gingerly using a rackety old ladder from our cottage and the kitten allowed me to put it down my jumper whist I got down. It was too weak and terrified to resist. (I was feeling a bit the same way myself, I don't really like heights!) The poor creature was filthy and just skin and bone. It must have been there quite a while.

We left it in the kitchen with a makeshift bed (my jumper,) some milk and water and a can of tuna. In the morning I went tentatively into the kitchen. I wasn't entirely sure it would still be alive. There he sat, beautifully clean all except for around his eyes. He looked like he had a pair of spec's on. Hence his daft name. He greeted me so affectionately! Where had the cowering, cobwebby, miserable creature of last night gone to?

He went from strength to strength, putting on weight and strength and personality to go with it.

We asked around if he belonged to anybody but was told it was probably a feral kitten. We were even offered kittens by somebody who misunderstood.

As we neared the end of our holiday it became apparent that our fate was sealed. Percy had become our new owner. He allowed us to drive him home where he lived with us for seventeen years.

He was a cat of character. I think he must have been feral because his hunting skills were superb. Most mornings as I was making breakfast I would hear the cat flap rattle and in would come Percy with his contribution to the housekeeping. Usually a mouse or a poor bird.

On one memorable occasion he tried to get a fully grown, extremely alive, and very vocal magpie in through the flap! The magpie and I had other ideas. Percy was unamused by the loss of this gourmet meal and went huffily into the dining room to beat our Labrador up.

One time he brought a large piece of cooked chicken in and laid it at my feet. I still wonder who lost their lunch that day. I didn't ask around because I didn't really want to know. Percy graciously shared her prize with Honey, the aforementioned long suffering Lab'.

When I had my first child I was a bit worried about whether either of the animals would be jealous. On the contrary, they both decided they were nannies and whichever of them was around would let me know if the baby stirred.

As Mark, our firstborn, became more mobile he treated Percy as a soft toy. Percy never retaliated against the sometimes rough handling, he just perfected the feline martyr look. If things got too rough or too embarassing (What self respecting cat wants to be seen in cardigans or baby bonnets!) he just used to jump up out of the way and watch junior from a safe distance.

That midnight search rewarded us daily as Percy became an integral part of our busy family. He never got sick and only had to go to the vet in an emergency once when he took a fox on and came out the worse for wear. He was aged about ten then, and had very ragged ears for the rest of his long life.

He was very affectionate and would sit on your knee purring and kneading for as long as you could stand the pain. I became stoical and decided that the sharp pins of his paws were just free acupuncture. (Perception is everything.)

Finally Percy got older and slower. He never became incontinent. He would always manage to drag himself outside or to his litter tray, no matter how tired or aching he felt.

One New Years Day he hauled himself up onto the Hi Fi system and went to sleep. He never woke up.

We buried him in the garden with full honours.

Seventeen years was a long time for a family to be owned by a cat. For months afterwards I would find my ears straining to hear the familiar rattle of the cat flap. There was a cold space on our laps.

I loved that cat.

Summary: How can I summarise such a life?