Pretty Little Miss Kat Mandu

OK, you are right, my name – sounds like Kathmandu – the Capital of Nepal.

It was assigned by Lover Boy, Wonder Boy’s friend,  brother-in-arms as well as his drunk and disorderly tank mate – well, at least on one occasion….(oh, was I not suppose to say that)? My Bad…What did Bambi’s Momma say again – oh, yeah, ‘If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.’ Who cares?  I am just a manipulative Sociopath from the Moraine. Who would believe me anyway?

 

But now, well, now,  I am Angel Cat Mandu, gone to my greater reward and I do see the universe and what I contributed to it, well from a panoramic 360 degree wide-angle. Maybe I was a Feline Sociopath with my divide & conquer skills, leading poor Charlie astray, a bit!!  I was the most senior, although smallest feline. As such,  it was expected for me to take charge.  Forget that. As a feral, taken in somewhere around six to eight months old, I already had a well-developed ‘Survival-of-the-Fittest’ in a Tough-Love World.

I exhibited the normal traits of ginger and black, with white trim only, a long-haired calico that was accompanied with a regal bushy tail and white bib and paws. (Momma said it looked like I stepped diffidently through white paint). As a rule, a Calico is generally prone to be withdrawn, and skittish.  However, when I was rescued from the moraine in York Region, I had never even darkened the doorway of a  house before. I had zero interaction with the Two Footed menagerie,  and only ever lived in an outdoor Cat Colony. Therefore, once inside, I promptly bolted out of the carrying case and disappeared for three days.

Poor Momma searched in vain in her small house, embarrassed to tell anyone that she had lost a stray kitten she had ‘rescued….LOL.’   Where was I, you ask? Hiding in plain sight in Momma’s bedroom, no less. The first night, lights out, I stayed put under the bed, behind a suitcase.  I moved an iota, something fell over.  Momma jumped, turned on the lights, got on her hands and knees, peered under the bed, nothing. Must be the squirrels, trying to break in the attic, she thought as she fell back to sleep.  The second night Momma was really perplexed.  She could have sworn some creature swooped on to her bed.  Again when she turned on the overhead light, nothing was revealed so she drifted back to the Land of Snooze, even though she had a missing-in-action feral somewhere  in her possession. Go figure – how could she have missed connecting the dots on that one?  

On the third day, Momma came home from work and was discussing something with Wonder Boy in her bedroom.  Out I jumped. I  had needs. No food or bathroom privileges for three days can even make a feral desperate. Momma held me, talking softly while Wonder Boy got food.  From that day forward I did my own thing, mostly hiding out in the basement but coming up to the food dishes to eat with the other cats in the house.

Within a month I had been trundled off to the vet to get my vaccines and that nasty surgery that meant ‘no kitties’ – that worked for me.  Once over that ordeal, I chose to be an indoor cat, afraid when a door was opened, to cross the threshold.  Then at two years old I followed another one of our cats to the back yard.

Thus started my legacy as an Indoor / Outdoor Cat – for about three weeks.  I would disappear three days at a time, and then sneak back in for a couple of days till the wander lust took over again. I was hooked, addicted to my past.  Finally, I tired of the out-door life and remained inside, stretching in a patch of light in the sun porch or hiding out in the basement.  When two feral kittens were brought home, I ignored them because I now felt Four Feet Bad – Two Foot Good.  I still took comfort  by jumping on Momma’s bed to have an afternoon siesta, choosing the bottom of the bed to sleep on.  But don’t  stretch out beside me, Momma or I am out-of-here.  ‘Don’t stand so close to me’, was my battle song.

The next year, can you believe it, without consulting me, Momma brought home an additional three kittens. Now my personality hardened, it got even more strident.  I not only wanted, but demanded attention, with my annoyingly loud meow. Don’t kid yourself. Life had been a battle field on the moraine, even the Two Foot Good were suspect, breeding us for money, dumping us, if the pet stores did not want us.  And the Forest Freak in Peel Region, easy breezy, in comparison to the  Forest Freak we met up with on the Moraine.

Now, I can’t say for sure but  Forest Freaks up there were rumored to be part wildcat, part coyote with fox and Canadian Wild Geese, that would attack any critter, anywhere, anytime and yes, goes without saying, they love the Moraine. And just  the thought of them scared me (clawed paws, scissor sharp teeth and wings that flap furiously – a nightmare). However, no matter how clever I thought I was, now I never would be able to find the Moraine which was forty kilometres east, even if I was looking, but no,  I wasn’t. This little house of Momma’s suited me dandy, even if I was more wild than domesticated.  The only thing I hated was Momma’s need to nurture strays forcing her to bring home more abandoned kitties.

 

Although I resisted all friendly overtures from the kitties, I finally decided to choose at least one who would have my back. Naturally, it had to be a Calico, a kitty that looked like me – that would be a ‘no thanks’ to the Black and Whites.   And.. that Virginia, is how I lured Charlie  to become ‘The Phantom…. my power over her, grew stronger yet’ making her choose to live her life in a dark, dreary, damp basement instead of in the sunshine, on the back of the couch, where she could have enjoyed watching the neighbor hood.

 

 

Life in the ‘Hood’ means choosing sides and blind allegiance to  unworthy  leaders  who  needs at least one follower. Ka-ching, Ka-ching, I had one, named Charlie.