yusufmartin's journal

My dear wife comes from a long line of cat lovers – it is in the blood. Her father, the remarkable Pa Yusop, hordes cats, herds cats, loves cats, only parting from his beloved felines to travel.

It is then, when Pa Yusop is away from home and hearth that his dastardly sons, and one daring daughter, swoop to clear the compound of its incessant mewling, meowing, hissing and the collection of half-eaten cat biscuits.

On their father’s return, hearing his mild reprimands, his gentle tears on discovering his number of cats reduced from twenty - to a mere handful, is a small price his children have to pay, for their gathering of their father’s cat melee.

We too are no stranger to cats and, at times, have had up to four cats, but their numbers ultimately dwindle as friends and other relatives become attached to those adorable bundles of fluff, falling prey to their innocently mesmerising eyes and their cuddly charisma - instantly insisting on finding homes for the captivating cats.

So from four, we have become reduced to one. One scruffy, mangy, cowardly cat named because of his colour – kopi. Kopi is far from brave and spends most of his life running, or hiding from the local cat bullies, but he has, amidst the complexity of his day sauntering, resting and eating, found time to enamour himself with one female cat.

She is approximately Kopi’s colour – dark, muddy brown, but without his distinguishing white bib and goatee beard, and, is basically, a flirty brazen hussy of a cat.

The unlikely Romeo and Juliet cat romance lasted, and, over time, the female cat became pregnant. On delivery, there was no guessing as to who the father was, as each of the shabby kittens were dark and each had a white bib, of sorts, just like their dishevelled father.

One morning, the daylight just adjusting itself from the privacy of the night to the company of the day, I stood by the rear of the kitchen, about to give Kopi his fishy breakfast, when I heard a soft mew, mew, mew.

I looked around, and heard the sound again. I looked by the outside cupboard - nothing. I looked by the washing machine and heard the noise again - from the direction of the wild cherry tree. There, between the lower braches, in an old plastic sieve we use to feed birds rice, were two small kittens.

At first, I simply could not believe my eyes. Sitting, mewling in the old, dry sieve were two mini Kopis, abandoned and a little pathetic. A moment of panic struck me. What should I do with the kittens - should I take them down, and if I do take them down, what should I do with them. I froze with indecision.

Eventually, when my brain decided to work, I scooped the kittens from the tree and put them in a spare cage. Then I thought, what if the mother cat comes by, she would need to feed them, so I opened the cage door. As soon as I did so the kittens started to go out, so I closed the cage door and felt guilty about doing so.

I called my wife on the hand phone, and she said she would talk with the neighbours about this. Meanwhile, I proffered the kittens a small bowl of water and some tinned food; luckily, I had in the fridge.

I had no idea how the mewing kittens got into the tree, thinking, maybe, it was some cat thief who realising what he had taken on, had simply abandoned the young cats in the tree, knowing that we would look after them. I was a little annoyed at this presumption, but also a little pleased that people should know that we would care for those animals.

A few minutes after my caging the kittens, my wife called back. The neighbour was so pleased that we had the kittens, as she knew they would be safe with us. She had gone on to tell my wife, who later relayed to me, that it was the mother cat who was moving the kittens around, and this was the third time it had happened.

No doubt, eventually, the single mother cat had decided that their father should play a greater role in the rearing of their children, and deposited the kittens as near to him as it was possible.

Unfortunately, her faith in his paternal instincts was mistaken, as, on seeing his offspring, he raised his hackles, spat at his children as they, in turn, spat back at him, and that was that - the sole father/children contact.

Later that day, the neighbour’s young son arrived and took Kopi’s children away, back to his mother, and back to their mother.