Wills is a very, very large cat. In fact he's ENORMOUS. 

As he approached the sheepskin rug the first time I met him, I though he was about to kill me. I tried to stand to defend myself, but he just flopped himself down, paws crossed and outstretched as he looked at me curiously. Wills kind of appointed himself as my carer. He was always there - just looking at me or gently purring - and when I took my first tentative, wobbly steps, Wills was there to supervise.  He became my constant (and unwanted) companion. I also, very quickly, came to the conclusion he was a bit of a wuss and very, very stupid.

My new human tried to feed me but the stuff I was given was most strange, certainly something I’d not seen in the wild. It came in sachets and cans. Wills used to positively drool at feeding time, but I never bothered with it.

Slowly I was fading away. My human tried tempting me with sausage ends and it soon became clear that I loved human food (mainly because I used to scrounge for it when I was feral) I had never been given cat food so it was not something I understood.

I loved a curry, sweet and sours were a treat, but my new vet - Saint Ben of Park Street - said I must be weaned off it and given proper cat food. Thus the battle began.

My human would try to get me to eat, but nothing which was put before me seemed exciting. So with much female logic, my new human decided to make a game of it. Food was now ‘tigers’ and a wild cat like myself had to rid the world of ‘tigers’!! So each meal would consist of ‘tigers’ ….. Tuna tigers …. Ham tigers ….  Chicken tigers… All sorts of ‘tigers’ as she carried the dish of food around, teasing me about ‘tigers’.

Like a loon, keeping up this daft pretence about ‘tigers’, she carried the food dish around the house, until eventually I tentatively gave the food a sniff whilst looking at her as if she was completely barking. I took my first bite them whooomf, I was gobbling it up. I never looked back! How come I never hunted down cat food when I was feral?

As I started to become interested in food the girls on the deli counter at the supermarket would send chopped or sliced tiger’s off-cuts. There was a man in the market who would send loads of packs of out-of-date ham tigers and chicken tigers, so I ate tigers!!

But I still have a passion for cobwebs which I survived on. I just love snuffling my nose into old webs and chomping on them, a truly epicurean feast that takes me back to my wild days. Tom Cat Towers is free of cobwebs all round for as far up as I can reach, which is about knee high to a human. If I could reach the ceiling, there is a feast of cobwebs up there just waiting to be eaten!

Willi, who is called ‘gut-truck’ by his humans, would drool as these ‘tigers’ were placed before me in an effort to get me to eat and become healthy. He learned not to succumb to his greed or try to dip his nose in my tigers as his snout would receive a good clout and a very bad breathed hiss. Today he will sit next to me and wait until I have finished eating before he dares to dive in. However, it has taken some training by me to get him to this stage.

As the weeks progressed, I became fitter. My pelt grew back and is incredibly fluffy. My tail is still too heavy for me to lift, so it just drags behind me as I crocodile my way round Tom Cat Towers.

I am now called Serendipity. I’m also called Dippi-Duck as well as Scrap as I’m a scrap of a cat who begs for scraps from the table. I also get called The Lion, as I have big cat attitude. sometime I don’t realisehow tiny I am as I take on anything, including Wills.  Willi Whizkas is a great big beige colouredlollopy Maine Coon who just regards me with curiosity.

At first I though he was going to attack me with his great big table tennis bat sized paws, and do me some damage, or even kill me. Instead he just follows me round chirruping and supervising every mealtime, in the hope of polishing off any scraps after I’ve finished eating.

One thing I love eating, absolutely adore, is cheap-crap tigers. These come in pouches and cost 99p for 6 in a cheapie shop my human frequents. They are obviously the cheapest, smelliest cat food a human can buy, but after flies, ants and cobwebs, cheap-crap tigers with veins and gristle are an epicurean feast!

There is also another cat resident here in Tom Cat Towers; Little Dumpty Roo, a Himalayan Lynx, who is so far up her own backside, it’s frightening. She is a moppet, a complete air head and bimbo. For all the ‘go’ in her she should be a pyjamacase.

Over time I also realisedwhat a complete custard of a cat Willi Whizkas is. When it comes to stupidity, that cat is fully qualified. So, now I am fit and healthy, I have started to compile a bit of a diary detailing life at Tom Cat Towers.

Willi’s version:

When my human wasn’t around, I tentatively tried to give the new cat a sniff and a once over inspection to get a paw on what my new project would entail.

However this scrap of a cat tried to stand up, wobbled and fell over whilst trying to hiss at me. I was taken quite aback.

That was not the friendly action of a cat that should be grateful to have a personal carer assigned to it.

I flopped down, crossed my paws and had a jolly good look at her. Her tiny bones stuck out through her shaved skin. Her eyes were just massive, she nodded her head up and down constantly as she stared back at me. Her legs are odd; not the right length and she sort of hobbles on her ankles. She cannot meow which is not right, every cat should be able to meow to alert humans to feed them! I am especially vocal with my human when it’s time to feed me, which is pretty much all of the time!.

I was almost of the opinion that this wasn’t really a real cat. There was so much wrong with it!!

This new cat is called Dippi and she won’t eat. My human despaired and tried to give Dippi all sorts of things to tempt her.

One evening Dippi stood up shaking all over. I rushed to her side as she took a few wobbly steps then fell over. I pushed my snout towards her tummy to see if she was OK, only to be rewarded with a spitty hiss and a clout on the nose by her tiny claws. I was quite taken aback.  My human shoed me away and tried again to offer food. This is where I cleaned up. What Dippi left, I ate and my considerable girth grew quite fat as more and more things were offered and refused.

Then someone offered Dippi a sausage and she wolfed it down. From then on all she would eat was human food and my steady stream of delights promptly stopped!

Eventually Dippi was weaned onto proper cat food and we both eat in the kitchen. However, this has caused a bit of a dilemma.

As Dippi became settled in and tentatively began to eat I felt, as senior cat, that when I have finished my food I have the right to start on what is on Dippi’s plate. If she is slow at eating it, then tough. However after a few thumps on the nose, I have learned to give way on this point.

I feel my life now has purpose. As her Health Care Assistant (self-appointed) I spend my days just following her round.  When she sleeps, I flop down near by and just watch her. I have become her ginger shadow, and am very proud of myself. I’m sure she appreciates this selfless act.

 

A Morning Kiss

A morning kiss, a discreet touch of his nose landing somewhere on the middle of my face.
Because his long white whiskers tickled, I began every day laughing.

Janet F Faure

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