I love animals generally and would not go out of my way to harm one on purpose. I’m deeply ashamed of the way I used to shoot birds with my catty or a pellet gun when I was a kid, although I actually killed only a few because I was a lousy shot. I should not even have ended those few lives, even though I thought I had an excuse when I cooked and ate some of them. When you’re in a school where most of your fellow students are farmers’ sons who grow up hunting things, you have pressure to conform and I suppose I was no different.
I arrived back in Sterkspruit late one night, after being away. Coming up the main street, a little black cat dashed out in front of my car and to my utter horror, both the front and back wheels went over the poor creature. I looked in my rearview mirror and discovered to my dismay, that the cat was dragging itself off the street. It did not seem possible that it had even survived being run over so I decided it was up to me to put it out of its misery. That is easier said than done. When I got to the pitifully crying cat, I saw she was very young, just slightly more than a kitten and obviously lame in her hindquarters but how to end her life? I did not have a knife with which to cut her throat and I looked round for a big rock to drop on her head. But just the thought of performing either of those tasks was more than I could bear, so I picked her up and put her in my car and took her back to my quarters. She just lay quietly while I placed her on a pile of old cloths in a box and seemed quite comfortable, despite her paralysis.
I sat for ages just stroking her and silently apologizing to her for injuring her. She seemed to feel my anguish because she started purring as I stroked her. I had no plan for the next day – there was no vet in a village which really didn’t even have adequate medical facilities for human beings. I eventually fell asleep and the next morning I popped over to the shop across from the bank and bought a box of baby cereal. I mixed some up and offered it to her and to my delight she gobbled it up as if famished. But there was another little complication which me being a bachelor, just never thought of. She had had to go to the bathroom while I was out and unfortunately without any control over her back parts, she’d made a bit of a mess. I’m much like my old Dad in that I have a weak stomach. Show me anything like that and away goes my breakfast!
But I bit the bullet, gagged a lot and eventually cleaned up around dear little Blackie. She just lay and watched me, purring all the while and crawling ever deeper into my heart. I had her for several days and fed and cleaned up after her like a seasoned dad. She just lay in the box and waited for me. I had rooms in the bank building so was able to check on her throughout the day. Suddenly one afternoon some days later I came in and Blackie was staggering around bravely on her “paralysed” legs. A few hours more and she was walking quite normally. I was utterly delighted and had already decided that if she wanted a home, it could be with me but alas she turned out to be more feral than I realized and when she saw my outside door open, she darted out and was gone. Fickle female, she broke my heart, she did!
All the traders in the village had rat and mouse populations which they tried to keep under control with lots of cats. I was sure Blackie was one of those and even more so when a few weeks later when I went to see Beau Cusens in his business. While I was talking to him, a little black cat came up to me, rubbing herself against me and miauwing. I scratched her for a bit and she arched her back in obvious pleasure. Beau remarked that I must have an affinity for cats because his store cats were usually too wild to so much as approach a human, let alone allow themselves to be petted.
Do you think it was Blackie? I’m damn sure it was – she just came to say sorry for scarpering like that and thanks for the T.L.C I had given her. I’ve never owned a cat but I came very close with Blackie.
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