An Act Of A Cat

To write this I had to refer to Google with this question: Why do cats bury their poop? And there was an answer. ‘Dogs bury bones, cats bury poop. Hiding waste is a natural feline instinct but it's not just because cats are obsessed with cleanliness. The act of meticulously burying their waste stems from cats' long history of using urine and faeces to mark their territory.’

I’m not familiar with cats and pets, particularly the creepy things I feel most uncomfortable with. I remember a white cat that lived in the neighbourhood. She knows me. I think she even smiled at me digging into some trash left outside my house. One day I saw a little kitty by the gate. And behind a wall it was this cat waiting with a happy face. I stepped away and she picked the little kitten to safety. People, if they see a cat, they stomp their foot on the ground and chase them. This cat sometimes passes very close to me and it gives nips. Usually at midnight hours when I’m up and step outside the gate for a smoke. Once when I left abroad, this cat rested at my door during night time…missing me. On the third night my lodger chased it and she never came to rest there again. I miss this cat.

At Kani, (a resort island I worked in the 90s), there were hundreds of cats. A cat dominated each room and room boys would chase them away. If they saw a local guy these cats would run away. But when they see a tourist they come close and those guests loved treating them and feeding them. They lock the cat inside their room when they go out. That’s when the room boy would appear and suddenly the cat would face terror. One day a little girl came to the lobby with a big cat; the one waiting on their room. I could tell as the cat’s eyes rolled at the local guys, it was kind of sly. The cat knew nobody would attempt to kick him now. The wild feline professionally faked it to show his soft side in the little girl’s lap and I observed clear sarcasm in its eyes. In Kani these cats grew in numbers and they trapped them to dump in uninhabited islands, sometimes to villages, I saw three cages full. It was heart-breaking. They were crying.

At Thari Village, (another resort I worked in the 80s), we had a little cat. The shop guys painted her in dye colours. She weighed on drinking wine at the restaurant. Then one day the cat pissed on a plate and the young chef there put her in the oven. As I heard, the cat dashed out of the hot furnace when someone opened the door. Her paws burnt and she never approached the kitchen side, particularly if she saw this chef.

One day I was passing the restaurant area when the cat ran to my heels out of nowhere, rubbing its tail. She hadn’t had a bite for weeks. She was so thin, her belly flat and skin just hanging. I took her to the staff mess and fed her. That night I left her on my bed by my feet to sleep. Next morning she was still there. I took her for breakfast and arrived at the reception with the cat at my heels. The assistant manager said he’d love to keep the cat if I would let him have it. And I always thought keeping a pet would be a burden for someone who couldn’t maintain a daily routine. I was more than pleased to pass him the cat and he took good care of her. It was a very playful little cat. Keep a crab in front of it…she’d chase and play without losing it.

And finally this act from a cat surprised me. In Bathala, another island I had gone to work twice, first and last time on a resort, this black-blue cat was among us. One morning I sat on a swing outside the reception bungalow. This cat climbed the swing and next she jumped down to the ground. She dug the soil just inches from me and sat down to poop. Her eyes in contact with mine, she stepped away to show me that it was empty. She could not poop. She repeated this act. I got it…I took her to the diving school and I told the dive master of these signs. He gave some medicine to ease the cat.

It still amazes me how well she could tell…