Charlie

Warning: mention of cats being put down/killed

My youngest sister Miriam loves animals. One day, she got into huge trouble when my mother innocently opened a box in my sister’s wardrobe, and out jumped . . . a little mouse!

Miriam had been given a mouse by one of her school friends and knew my Mum would have a fit if she knew. The little mouse lived secretly in a shoe box in the wardrobe and only came out for playtime after school. My sister gathered food for her mouse surreptitiously. Before the little mouse could eat a way out of its home, it had a chance to escape. Unsuspecting, Mum opened the box and, with an almighty scream of horror, dropped it, and the wee mouse took to its little foot-paws and away.

“Hi Miriam. Hope you had a great day at school. Could you please tell me what you have stored in that shoe box in your wardrobe?”

“What shoe box?”

“The one that smells.”

Miriam looked sheepish. “I…I… I’m not sure what you mean. Did you check it?”

Mum stared knowingly at my sister, with hands on hips and her lips pursed.

“On Mum. I’m so sorry. I’m looking after it for a school friend. I knew you’d say no so I didn’t tell you. I’m really sorry.”

“Why would I say ‘no’?”

“Coz you’re scared of them?”

“I hate vermin! I’m terrified of rats and mice. How do you think I felt when it jumped out at me?” Mum’s tone verged on hysteria.

“What did you do? Is it still in the box?” Miriam’s face bore an expression of panic.

“When it leapt out, I almost jumped out of my skin. It ran away, or I would have killed it.” Her face expressed revulsion.

“And now Bubbles will catch her!” Tears of anguish flowed.

“Honestly Miriam. I’m not worried about that. I do not want a mouse loose in the house. I won’t get a wink of sleep tonight. How could you?”

“Mum, I want a pet of my own. You have Bubbles. It was just a tiny mouse.”

“How can you say that? We went out and collected guppies for your fish tank. You have fish.”

“But I want a pet I can cuddle.”

“You have Bubbles. You can cuddle her whenever you like.”

“But she’s your cat. she’s old, and doesn’t like cuddles. I want one of my own. A kitten.”

“We first have to track down this mouse and let it go. Or maybe we should set some traps.”

“But Mum, that’s cruel!”

“Keeping it in a box in the wardrobe is cruel. I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

The mouse possibly heard its fate spelled out or caught a whiff of the resident cat because they never saw sight nor sound of it again. Miriam felt relief.

Possession of her own kitten didn’t happen straight away. It took my mother several months to get over the mouse episode. And much wheedling on the part of my sister.

Miriam saw a litter of newborn kittens at a friend’s home. She visited them often, fell in love with one of them, and kept Mum updated on their progress.

“When they’re six weeks old, my friend said I can have one. I promise I’ll never bring a mouse home again. I promise to clean up after the kitten and look after it. Pleeese let me choose one. There’s a friendly one that looks a lot like Bubbles. A wee boy. He’s so cute. I couldn’t bear anyone else to have him. He already thinks I’m his mother.”

Finally, Mum and Dad agreed to let Miriam keep one of the kittens. Charlie came home to my parent’s place. Miriam doted on him, looked after his scratch box fed him, and tried to keep him out of mischief. She rushed home from school each day to see her darling, Charlie.

One day, while she was at school, a tragedy occurred.

Dad backed his vehicle out of the driveway and round into the road. When he glanced back at the drive before he continued, a small, still mound of what looked like fur lay where he had backed out. It warranted parking up and investigating. Imagine his horror when he recognized Charlie’s crumpled and bloody body. He had driven right over Miriam’s dear wee kitten. He bolted inside.

Mum stared at him as he stood in the doorway, with the look of horror still plastered on his face. He looked pale.

“Whatever happened?”

“I’ve just run over Miriam’s kitten. What can we do?”

“Is he dead?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we will have to replace him before she comes home. You bury him and clean up any mess. I’ll go to some pet shops and try to get one that looks just like him.” Mum, forever practical.

***

Miriam walked in the door. “Hi, Mum. I hope Charlie has been behaving today.” She kicked off her shoes at the door and tramped into her room. Her eyes widened at two little kittens curled up in Charlie’s basket, fast asleep. One had champagne-pink fur. She rushed out in excitement.

“Mum, there are two kittens in the basket. You got a little friend for Charlie. He looks so sweet. Gorgeous color. I can’t believe you got me another.”

“We thought they could be good company for each other.”

“It’s a fabulous idea. Thank you so much. You’re the best.”

Later, the kittens woke up, and Miriam played with them. Within seconds she picked up Charlie and went straight to Mum.

“This isn’t Charlie! Look here and here. Different markings. What is going on? Where’s Charlie?”

Her mother didn’t know what to say. “Do you like your new kitten?”

Miriam frowned. “What new kitten? They’re both new. Where’s Charlie?”

“If I tell you what happened, do you promise not to make a fuss?”

Miriam looked aghast. “I’m already making a fuss. What happened to him?”

“Well . . . he got run over. I didn’t know he snuck outside.”

“My baby died?” Miriam started wailing.

“We did the best we could. This little Charlie is so sweet. And we brought his brother home as well.”

“Who did it?”

“Dad. It was an accident.”

“Oh, Mum. He’s always backing into things! My poor little Charlie.”

“We’re so sorry. We thought you’d be ok if we replaced him, especially as we brought you his little brother as well.”

Miriam kept on crying. “So, you’d say to someone who has a child that dies, ‘It’s alright. You can have another one’?”

“This is not a child. It’s only a kitten. And now you have two.”

The shock end to Charlie number one’s life became less as Miriam came to know Charlie number two. And his little brother, named Thomas, also became dearly loved. The kittens were double trouble and great partners in crime. They often attempted to catch and eat Miriam’s guppies and were hilarious to watch when they played chase and play-fought. Timid Thomas hid when visitors arrived. Charlie stayed to greet the visitors with a nuzzle and allowed strokes and cuddles from others. Everyone loved him, and he knew it. Miriam finally agreed that the outcome of having such an adorable cat, Charlie 2, along with his brother, definitely turned the tragic loss of Charlie 1 into a small blessing.

Charlie and Thomas grew up, Miriam still doted on her fur babies and played with them. Her High School years passed, and she found employment in a Pharmacy and later in a Textile and Fabric store. Several years passed while she saved up to do her great O.E.

***

My mother had been left with the three cats in the family home when Miriam went on her overseas trip. She didn’t return until the fifth year, when she was finally caught working without a permit and deported from England. That’s another story. She had never considered how my mother would care for three cats in a large family home. Only one belonged to Mum. Mum had four mouths to feed. Three cats and herself.

Another sister told Mum, “Enough is enough! With the cost of vets and cat-food, the cats must go.”

 Mum reluctantly agreed.

Her goal of finding suitable homes for three cats proved more difficult than anticipated. No one wanted them or knew of anyone who wanted them. The Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals explained that any antisocial cats deemed unsuitable for a family were put down at the owner’s expense. At this time, only the cutest kittens had a chance. They advised euthanasia as the merciful solution.

My mother hated the thought of having three healthy cats killed. She had to admit her own cat could be considered first. Bubbles was old, shy, and didn’t like the grandchildren at all. Not a likely candidate for adoption. Thomas would go AWOL when visitors arrived and remain so until they left. Definitely not a candidate for a new owner, let alone a family.

Last of all, Charlie, the darling baby of my youngest sister. Such a loving, intelligent cat. He was handsome, too, with his clearly defined light and darker grey stripes and a white tummy. A new family would have to be found for him. My tender-hearted mother couldn’t match my youngest sister's extreme feelings about animals, and she knew Miriam would never forgive the family if Charlie had to be put down. My mother consoled herself that she may be forgiven for the murder of two cats if Charlie could be settled in a new home.

My mother mourned for days after my other sister took away two cats and arranged for a friend to put them out of their misery at no cost. She was appalled cat number three remained. The presence of Charlie comforted her, though his eyes accused her. The squinty eyes of affection became a wide-open incriminating stare.

He aimlessly crept around as if he sensed all was not well. No longer could he engage with his brother in their daily rough-and-tumble games. He wandered on padded feet through the house, seeming to look for Thomas. Life for him could never be the same. Only one food bowl out. No others for him to lick at their last tasty morsels. He looked up at my mother and mewed pathetically.

She convinced herself he was unhappy and he wanted them found.

“You miss them, don’t you? You’re wondering where on earth they are. Even if I could tell you what I’ve done, you would never understand why.” She picked him up to cuddle him. He nuzzled her and purred as if offering forgiveness. Such an affectionate feline.

***

My mother phoned me about the problem. I live far away and though sympathetic, was not in a position to fly there and pick up a cat.

“But you have to agree. Aren’t you already a virtual cattery for orphaned cats? You do prefer grown cats to kittens. You only have two cats at the moment. I know you can afford to feed and care for three cats. Charlie is adorable. The only problem is how to get him down to you.”

My mother had asked the right family. At one stage, we had indeed cared for nine cats. One friend regularly dropped off her two cats when she went living and sailing on her boyfriend’s boat. Then another two couples, friends, dropped off their cats while they were in between houses. With three of our own, we had nine cats for an extended period. One family who had dropped off three cats refused to pick them up. When word got out to the family about our cat-astrophic situation, we became known as “the Cattery.” It had been derogatory. Now it was touted as something very convenient.

While still pondering how to solve the cat transportation problem, my Uncle Eddie arrived to visit my Mum. My Uncle Eddie Groenendyk was a millionaire. I say ‘was’ not because he lost his fortune, but because he died later. This all happened while he lived.

Within a week, he wanted to visit his other niece in a distant city, me. He organized their flights and paid for them. My mother loaned a cat cage from the neighbor and arranged to take Charlie with her.

“Why on earth do we have to take a cat on holiday with us? Are you crazy?” he demanded as if he thought my mother a complete imbecile. She didn’t try to explain her tight budget, how much pressure another niece and nephew of his were putting on her to become cat free, or her determination to procure a new home for Charlie. He could never understand. He eventually agreed to take the cat along.

“Oh, thank you for that. You have saved this cat’s life.”

He shook his head in disbelief.

Hearing where her pet had gone to live, my sister Miriam said, “Poor Charlie, with all those children!” As if the presence of children alarmed her more than the fact that he could have died. My mother wasn’t in the least concerned. Charlie had always handled the visiting grandchildren admirably.

The amazing truth is that on arrival, Charlie walked groggily out of his cat cage, where he had been sedated during the flight. In minutes, he behaved as if he owned the place. Our other two cats immediately accepted him. Our male cat, Smokey, looked nothing like Thomas, Charlie’s brother. Yet the two of them became like brothers and play fought just as Charlie and Thomas had always done. That part seemed stranger than fiction.

We concluded that cats know better how to recognize home and family than some humans. Miriam need not have worried. Charlie became doted on, as before. So loving and cuddly, a firm favorite among the children.

In his old age, he became deaf, and we tried to persuade him to be an indoor cat. One day, he escaped. Apparently, he crossed the road to explore the park opposite our home and was run over as he returned. A neighbor alerted us. We all cried and cried. We identified with the feelings of my sister, who had grieved over Charlie 1. No one could have predicted that both Charlies would suffer the same demise. Charlie 2 has always been remembered, and his successors have never managed to take his place in our hearts. We still talk about him with fondness.