September 20: The French have a well deserved reputation for loving their dogs. While pooches are pampered and taken everywhere, sadly, cats don’t seem to enjoy the same privilege.
Many of the small towns I visited had groups of feral cats. I am sure that for every cat I saw on the street, there are many more safely at home behind closed doors, yet it was surprising to me that there were so many strays. Some, like this guy, seemed to have figured out how to live reasonably comfortably. They seemed to be fed (if not well-fed), but they would mostly scramble away if I tried to approach them.
I stayed in a small hotel in Entraygues. There was a small grey and white male in the lobby when I entered. He was very scrawny and had obviously suffered some sort of injury to his hind quarters, yet he hung around the fringes of the action, never far from the owner. She told me that he had been “her first customer every day for three years”. He was at the door every morning expecting breakfast – which he got – and then he wandered around for the day. She then said to me that, in all that time, she had never been able to pat him or touch him in any way. In spite of her care and attention, here was an animal so damaged that he could not bring himself to trust someone who obviously loved him.
Like humans, cats are social animals. They need to interact with other cats to have a full and rewarding life. It broke my heart to think of this poor guy being so alone and isolated because he could not overcome the fear created by circumstances that were, in all likelihood, not of his making. And it was not lost on me that I too lived alone. Like many others of my demographic, I ran the risk of diminishing personal support and contact with others. It was something of which I was mindful, but had pretty much accepted as being part of my future.
And so it is somewhat ironic that I am now paterfamilias and chief caretaker of my Mum’s cat Duster. To be honest, before my Mum died, I had often thought that I would wind up with her; everyone else had kids, cats or allergies, so I was the logical recipient.
There has been a period of acclimation. Places have been found for feeding, sleeping and the litter box. The 3 AM yowling has (mostly) subsided, and we have settled into a routine of feedings and pettings and cleaning up that seems to work for us. I am perhaps less lonely, but that benefit has to be balanced against the commitment of having an animal in my care. An invite to my Sister’s cottage is now followed with a question of what to do with Duster. Still, she has wormed her way into my affections, and I may just have to accept that this small animal will make my life richer and more fulfilling. And hopefully, I hers.