House cats

My wife, who was brought up in the country, had had cats in the house when growing up. I was brought up in a small town and had never had any domestic animal. The were nasty, inconvenient, insanitary, impossible, anything on in-. One time when I spent some summer weeks with relatives to my mother, living in the country, I got taking charge of a small dog. I was happy. It was a French Bulldog called Chess, and it happened to be a dog which fit my temperament. Only ten years later I was in a position to get a dog of my own, a boxer, but that is another story.

How the first cat came in the house, I do not remember. But I travelled a lot and suddenly it was there. The daughter had got a little kitten from friends, their cat had got plenty of them! It was a black female cat with a white breast spot, very nice, and we called her Lisa. She became soon a member of the family. Unfortunate circumstances however, made us to get rid of the animal. It was a great pity.

Some years later there was a new opportunity. A tabby grey tom-cat came across and stayed a period. He liked fish and was mostly called the Baltic Herring Tiger. His sport was to walk the roof ridges chasing birds, which finally went too far for the neighbourliness. So we had to get rid of him too. Great affliction.

Thisbe about 12 years old.

One night a week later a young couple emerged with a big black cat in a cage. It was the fodder hosts. When the cage was opened, the cat appeared, streched out his full length - one meter - and roared Miijjaauuaaasch!!! Went then around the room inspecting and talking, jumped finally up in the best chair, licked himself thoroughly, turned around and slept. We talked to the young couple and they told us the cat's story as far as they knew it. They had called the cat Patrik Lumumba after an actual wrestler. When the finally left, the cat did not move a muscle. It was not his people. He had decided to stay.

Pyramus (Musse I), here 15 yrs old.

We prepared a basket with a rag on a shelf in the storage-room, put the sandbox in a corner and heaved out the cat there. In the morning we inspected and did with his wounds. According to the young couple he had been found forlorn under a shed at a sommerhouse with one foreleg thread through his collar, probably in an attemp freeing himself from it. He must have walked so for some considerably time, for the wound in the armpit was big and bleeding. We took the cat to veterinary inspection: "First class tom-cat in his best age, between 2 and 4 years of age, the injury will heal, keep it clean and do so and so. But he must be gelded. What is his name?" Patrik lumumba was naot what we had thought of. We looked on each other, the wife and I, our previuos femal cat was named Thisbe, we said with one voice: Pyramus! Pyramus Patrik Lumiumba ( ...a cat will have three. T S Eliot). But it become Musse for short. Or Musse-Patrik, or Musse Sympathetic, or Zurbriggen or Gamsachurdian, pebding the situation or frame of mind. A pet child has many names.

Musse vas a pronounced personality. He followed us when taking an evening stroll, loudly talking, he followed me half way to the bus in the morning, stayed out for a while and went home. He had his own passage through a lid in the garage door and jumped often out when he heared out steps on the sand. With the neighbour's dachshound, a bitch, he had god relations. They sat often together on each side of the fence, exchanging small talks when waiving the tail or licking the fur.

Musse's favourite food was shrimps. If shrimps unexpectedly was on the menu, he burst out singing: Uuuääälylyly! We thought the cat had got crazy first time we heared his tunes, but he showed talkative and showed his appreciation with small sounds. One night in july when we arrived home after an outdoor consert, we noticed that there was an other concert going on in the neighbourhood. On the garage approach to a house on the other side of the street, our Musse was sitting on one side, a big magnificent flame-coloured tom-cat on the other, giving a concert in Pavarotti-class, which was heard widely around.

But tell me a joy which lasts forever. Wewn my wife was stricken with Alzheimer's syndrom and no longer could be nursed at home, I sold the house and moved into a flat. The cat Pyramus moved in with me, but missed his territory. He got tumours and endured a year, then was his time out. He had lived about 16 years. Sadly I went to the vet, who gave no hope. An injection, and quietly the cat went to the last sleep in my lap, with his head in my hands, tears slowly trickling down my cheeks.

Musse II, "Mössjö (Monsieur) ",here about 10 months old.

Some years ago, I took up a cat again, after some hesitation, to relieve a family where a member had been allergic to cats. The name of the cat was Musse. This new cat, 8 month old, is graphite-coloured, with white chest and paws. Very elegant, so he got the nickname Monsieur. Sometime perhaps I'll write his story.

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