Venture
Years ago, around the time I took the profile picture that I use here, I got a cat called Aragorn. He was a stray before I got him, so the first thing that I did was take him to the vet to get his immunisations, and basically just a general checkup. The vet called me and I expected him to tell me that Aragorn was ready to be collected, but he didn't. He told me that Aragorn had clearly been hit by a car at some stage, and his heart was basically shoved up his neck. It was amazing that he was still alive, but he wouldn't be for long. He said that they could try operate, but that the chances weren't good. I was shocked, by looking at him he seemed to be a pretty healthy cat. I figured, who needs food anyways?, and asked him to do what he could. I wasn't earning much at the time, still being a 2nd line support technician (student). The next day he called me to tell me that they had done everything that they could, but that sadly it wasn't enough and Aragorn had died on the operating table. I don't know what it is about cats, but I'm such a softy when it comes to them. I had Aragorn for a sum total of 2 weeks, but nevertheless was devastated. He was a lovely cat. My boss found me crying at my desk and sent me home for the day. The vet was also upset and very kindly only charged me half of what I owed. I know that he took a financial loss on my account for which I was very grateful. The kindness of strangers can really help.
A few weeks later, one of my friends who worked as a receptionist at a different vet, who knew what happened, asked me if I wanted a kitten. She told me of this cat that had been sitting in a cage there for about 6 months after her previous owner had died of old age. She'd had had 2 kittens which she offered me, but I said no, I wanted the cat. That cat turned out to be Venture. They had no trouble finding people to take the kittens. One of the advantages of taking an adult cat from a vet was that she'd already been spayed, and had all her inoculations done etc. So I knew before I got her that she was healthy.
At first, Venture was understandably nervous. I lived in this flat with my ex-girlfriend and one of my friends (who later would become her husband), that had a laundry room with a security gate. The cat could get through the gate anytime she wanted, so what I did was put her litter box and food in the laundry room. Then every day I would go in (and she would hide under the table) while I gave her food and water and cleaned out the litter box, then I'd leave, locking the gate behind me. The next time, the food would be gone. This went on for a week or so and soon she stopped hiding whenever I came in, and after a while she would come call me if she felt that I was being a bit tardy re feeding her. She also started getting on well with my friend's cat, Shabniggurath. I moved out of that flat for obvious reasons (don't move in with your ex, it's a terrible idea) and into the flat I took in Gardens, taking Venture with me. At first, my ex kept having to bring my cat back, but after a while she realised that the guy that feeds her had moved and that if she waited I'd get home from work and feed her again.
Every day she would wait for me outside the flat, but for whatever reason she hated the entrance hall, and would never use it. So when I'd go in I would hear her going, Mi mi mi mi mi mi! all the way around the outside of the flat until she got to the kitchen window which I'd leave open for her. The mi mi mi would fade away as she went further and then get louder as she came closer. I've never in my life, before or since, come across anything quite like it.
Time went on and I started dating Cat. Venture was not impressed. She saw no reason why I would need anyone else when I had her. I had a picture of myself and my sister that was laminated (fortunately). The first night Cat stayed over, Venture took her revenge by pooing on the picture, clearly she was stressed because it was liquid. I think she also peed on Cat's clothes. Still, after a while she grew to accept Cat, little knowing that this was just the first of what she must've seen as my strange habit of collecting creatures.
She accepted Cat (and the move to her flat), and another cat, Narcosleepi, and another, Mr H.. She was less impressed by the arrival of the dog, Pudge and seemed bemused when the baby girl pitched up. Over the years she patiently accepted other dogs, Maggie, My brother's escape artist dog (can't remember her name), Oliver, Sanny, Badger, and Trixie. She also came to terms with other cats, Tarantino, and Edge. And of course, another baby girl. By the time Guinea pigs and chickens pitched up, she barely noticed.
She was very sweet though, clearly she'd worked out that Cat was there to feed me, and so, when Cat went into hospital and didn't come home for a couple of days, I'd get home from work to find gifts from Venture... birds, mice, rats, etc. All carefully laid out at the foot of our bed.
Venture was with me when we moved to Plumstead, and then when we moved up to Boksburg, through Comet, Cinderella, the house we bought in Primrose, back to Cape Town (Bloubergstrand), then Marina da Gama, Muizenberg, and finally to the house we bought in Muizenberg.
She wasn't always keen on the move though. I still remember when we moved to Primrose how Venture and I had a disagreement. I thought that she should get into the car, and she disagreed. I won, but it was a Pyrrhic victory. By the time I got to the house I had blood dripping down my arms. When we moved back down to Cape Town, it wasn't her that decided to get into a fight with the dog while I was doing 120km/h (that was Mr. H), but she did insist on sleeping on my lap all the way.
I've always felt that children should grow up with pets, to teach them empathy, responsibility, and respect. Venture was great at teaching the children to respect her... she never seriously hurt them, but if they tried pulling her tail she would scratch. Actually, I doubt that the children ever even dared to begin to think about pulling her tail. She perhaps took her responsibility of teaching them respect a bit too seriously sometimes. I remember once after asking the children why they hadn't put their pyjamas on, to be told that they couldn't because Venture was in the cupboard. "The scratchy cat" they called her. I had to go fetch Venture myself so that they could access their pyjamas.
I of course, defended Venture at every opportunity. So while Cat would refer to her as, That demonic animal, I would always point out that she was a sweet loving cat and would never hurt a fly. Certainly once she got used to my strange habit of collecting people, cats, dogs, chickens, guinea pigs, fish, and other things, she became very affectionate. I think (I hope) that she must've realised that I took her out of a cage at the vet and gave her a home, and she repaid me with her love and affection. She didn't limit her affection to me, but soon anyone who'd sit still for long enough would find her on their lap, purring.
She was a very beautiful cat, long grey fur and made you understand why female cats are referred to as "Queens". Sadly, with all the moves over the years, hard drive failures, stolen and broken cell phones and computers, I've discovered that I have no pictures of her. People often thought that my tattoo of a cat on my shoulder was meant to be her, but I got the tattoo before I got her. Perhaps it was meant to be. People would say that owners resemble their pets which I always took as a great compliment. At times I worried that someone would mistake her for a valuable breed and steal her, but then I guess she may not have been the easiest cat to steal.
One of the hardest things about leaving for Scotland is that I had to leave her behind, I couldn't take her this time, and she was pretty old. It was a great wrench because I knew that I would not see her again. I left her in my house with my Beautiful Mother and my Sister in Law, both of whom love animals and loved her. She knew them because (of course) at some point I collected them as well so I wasn't leaving her with strangers or in an unfamiliar place.
It didn't come as a surprise though when I heard that she was doing poorly. I had to give the vet permission to put her down should it be necessary. I know from poor Tom Thumb that it's not worth trying to keep a cat alive once their time is up.
Today I discovered that she had been put down about a month ago. When I asked why no one had told me it was because no one knew how. And perhaps that, more than anything, shows how much she meant to me.
A few weeks later, one of my friends who worked as a receptionist at a different vet, who knew what happened, asked me if I wanted a kitten. She told me of this cat that had been sitting in a cage there for about 6 months after her previous owner had died of old age. She'd had had 2 kittens which she offered me, but I said no, I wanted the cat. That cat turned out to be Venture. They had no trouble finding people to take the kittens. One of the advantages of taking an adult cat from a vet was that she'd already been spayed, and had all her inoculations done etc. So I knew before I got her that she was healthy.
At first, Venture was understandably nervous. I lived in this flat with my ex-girlfriend and one of my friends (who later would become her husband), that had a laundry room with a security gate. The cat could get through the gate anytime she wanted, so what I did was put her litter box and food in the laundry room. Then every day I would go in (and she would hide under the table) while I gave her food and water and cleaned out the litter box, then I'd leave, locking the gate behind me. The next time, the food would be gone. This went on for a week or so and soon she stopped hiding whenever I came in, and after a while she would come call me if she felt that I was being a bit tardy re feeding her. She also started getting on well with my friend's cat, Shabniggurath. I moved out of that flat for obvious reasons (don't move in with your ex, it's a terrible idea) and into the flat I took in Gardens, taking Venture with me. At first, my ex kept having to bring my cat back, but after a while she realised that the guy that feeds her had moved and that if she waited I'd get home from work and feed her again.
Every day she would wait for me outside the flat, but for whatever reason she hated the entrance hall, and would never use it. So when I'd go in I would hear her going, Mi mi mi mi mi mi! all the way around the outside of the flat until she got to the kitchen window which I'd leave open for her. The mi mi mi would fade away as she went further and then get louder as she came closer. I've never in my life, before or since, come across anything quite like it.
Time went on and I started dating Cat. Venture was not impressed. She saw no reason why I would need anyone else when I had her. I had a picture of myself and my sister that was laminated (fortunately). The first night Cat stayed over, Venture took her revenge by pooing on the picture, clearly she was stressed because it was liquid. I think she also peed on Cat's clothes. Still, after a while she grew to accept Cat, little knowing that this was just the first of what she must've seen as my strange habit of collecting creatures.
She accepted Cat (and the move to her flat), and another cat, Narcosleepi, and another, Mr H.. She was less impressed by the arrival of the dog, Pudge and seemed bemused when the baby girl pitched up. Over the years she patiently accepted other dogs, Maggie, My brother's escape artist dog (can't remember her name), Oliver, Sanny, Badger, and Trixie. She also came to terms with other cats, Tarantino, and Edge. And of course, another baby girl. By the time Guinea pigs and chickens pitched up, she barely noticed.
She was very sweet though, clearly she'd worked out that Cat was there to feed me, and so, when Cat went into hospital and didn't come home for a couple of days, I'd get home from work to find gifts from Venture... birds, mice, rats, etc. All carefully laid out at the foot of our bed.
Venture was with me when we moved to Plumstead, and then when we moved up to Boksburg, through Comet, Cinderella, the house we bought in Primrose, back to Cape Town (Bloubergstrand), then Marina da Gama, Muizenberg, and finally to the house we bought in Muizenberg.
She wasn't always keen on the move though. I still remember when we moved to Primrose how Venture and I had a disagreement. I thought that she should get into the car, and she disagreed. I won, but it was a Pyrrhic victory. By the time I got to the house I had blood dripping down my arms. When we moved back down to Cape Town, it wasn't her that decided to get into a fight with the dog while I was doing 120km/h (that was Mr. H), but she did insist on sleeping on my lap all the way.
I've always felt that children should grow up with pets, to teach them empathy, responsibility, and respect. Venture was great at teaching the children to respect her... she never seriously hurt them, but if they tried pulling her tail she would scratch. Actually, I doubt that the children ever even dared to begin to think about pulling her tail. She perhaps took her responsibility of teaching them respect a bit too seriously sometimes. I remember once after asking the children why they hadn't put their pyjamas on, to be told that they couldn't because Venture was in the cupboard. "The scratchy cat" they called her. I had to go fetch Venture myself so that they could access their pyjamas.
I of course, defended Venture at every opportunity. So while Cat would refer to her as, That demonic animal, I would always point out that she was a sweet loving cat and would never hurt a fly. Certainly once she got used to my strange habit of collecting people, cats, dogs, chickens, guinea pigs, fish, and other things, she became very affectionate. I think (I hope) that she must've realised that I took her out of a cage at the vet and gave her a home, and she repaid me with her love and affection. She didn't limit her affection to me, but soon anyone who'd sit still for long enough would find her on their lap, purring.
She was a very beautiful cat, long grey fur and made you understand why female cats are referred to as "Queens". Sadly, with all the moves over the years, hard drive failures, stolen and broken cell phones and computers, I've discovered that I have no pictures of her. People often thought that my tattoo of a cat on my shoulder was meant to be her, but I got the tattoo before I got her. Perhaps it was meant to be. People would say that owners resemble their pets which I always took as a great compliment. At times I worried that someone would mistake her for a valuable breed and steal her, but then I guess she may not have been the easiest cat to steal.
One of the hardest things about leaving for Scotland is that I had to leave her behind, I couldn't take her this time, and she was pretty old. It was a great wrench because I knew that I would not see her again. I left her in my house with my Beautiful Mother and my Sister in Law, both of whom love animals and loved her. She knew them because (of course) at some point I collected them as well so I wasn't leaving her with strangers or in an unfamiliar place.
It didn't come as a surprise though when I heard that she was doing poorly. I had to give the vet permission to put her down should it be necessary. I know from poor Tom Thumb that it's not worth trying to keep a cat alive once their time is up.
Today I discovered that she had been put down about a month ago. When I asked why no one had told me it was because no one knew how. And perhaps that, more than anything, shows how much she meant to me.