The pregnant (but actually just fat) stray cat who meowed her way into my life while I plodded through existence
How I got a cat…
The story starts with a stray cat visiting my brother’s flat multiple times. I’d been considering getting a pet for about a year at this point. Things like varsity, work load, depression, logistics of living in a flat, consideration of roommates, and (apparently) common sense had so far kept me from acting on this consideration. There aren’t that many types of pets with personality that are also cuddly while being easy to care for that will fit into an apartment. A puppy would have been my first choice. I grew up with dogs, considered myself a dog person and told myself that if I had a dog then I would do more exercise. However, dogs are especially tricky because I knew I’d be doing 24 hour calls and no dog has that kind of bladder control. Cats, however, poop in boxes, don’t have to be walked 5km everyday to keep their energy levels down so they don’t rip apart one’s place of residence, will (mostly) still cuddle and are able to cope in smaller areas. Rabbits tried to sneak their way onto the list of acceptable pets by using many of the cat’s arguments – small, could fit in a flat, fluffy. Certain friends attempted to convince me that they are snuggly and have personality. I was not convinced. So I was already tending towards getting a cat when a certain fluff with a distinctly round belly and not much fat elsewhere appeared on the scene.
It helps to have some friends who will aid and abet you in cat-napping. Even if they are unaware of the landslide they may start with a sentence like “let’s put the cat in the car and take her home for the night. Maybe then she’ll come visit us too?”. The local stray was easily enticed into the car, driven one block, mostly accepting of being carried into the house and then impressed with a bowl of tuna. After heading to bed with the kitchen windows open so she could head out if needed, I was surprised to find a little warm bundle jump onto my bed and start purring. I was a goner.
After some initial bonding and much googling, it was decided that this was likely a pregnant cat. Signs include: very friendly, excessive grooming, vocal, with a round belly that she won’t let you touch, and a large appetite. Then as if she sensed she was about to be taken to the vet for a check up, shots, and pregnancy scan, she disappeared. So I kept going to work/study in the emergency unit and thinking far too much about this probably pregnant cat. Until I got a call on a Sunday night at 10pm that the cat was back at my brother’s flat and his roommate was going to take her to the vet now (there was nothing immediately wrong but that’s as good a time as any for going to the vet apparently). So obviously I jumped in the car to join in on the evening’s events, only to arrive at the vet and find that, yes, the vet did think she was pregnant, but uh, she probably also has cat aids (feline immunodeficiency virus) and the best thing to do would be to abort the kittens. Luckily the test came back negative and that decision was off the table. Matt very kindly paid the vet bill (essentially buying me a cat) and told me to take good care of her.
My mind was made up. Cape Town winter is no place for kittens to be outside. It’s cold and wet and they will likely die. So the logical option was to keep her in my room until the kittens had been born. A cat litter box was obtained – which thankfully she quickly figured out, kitten food bought (because that was the all-knowing-internet’s advice on what to feed a pregnant cat), tick and flea spray lathered on, deworming given, collar attached, and a chart of dates allowing people to guess when the kittens would arrive and how many there would be was posted by the front door. The scene was set and so began the long wait for the arrival of the baby cats. She picked up weight, she groomed her belly almost constantly and she continued to be exceptionally friendly, vocal, and round.
I waited…
…and waited…
…and waited…
…and after 10 weeks (the full length of a cat pregnancy) decided that I had been scammed. This was no pregnant cat shivering in the cold but an overly well fed scavenger of student apartment blocks. At no point during this time was I able to find anyone who claimed she was their cat. But, now I had a cat that had made her home on the end of my bed with alternative nap spots on the windowsill in the sun and the couch where she could demand pats from anyone who happened to walk by. She was working very hard on sneaking her way into my roommates’ hearts (having already firmly lodged herself in mine) and it seemed that my search for a pet with personality had ended. I had a cat. And so began, the Tale of Tabitha Twitchett (It only took about three months for her to finally get a name that I thought fitted. Ironically, it was a name my mom had suggested right at the beginning).
Have you ever been tricked by an animal?
