Tag Archives: feral cats Mallorca

Lockdown Log in Mallorca – Day 33

Posted
Filed under Cats, Covid-19

Wisteria in bloom at Alfabia Gardens (photographed in a previous year). A spring sight that few will see this year.

Really? Day 33? I would never have imagined spending such a long time at home and going out only once in all that time. But here we are, Easter already over, and halfway through April. With the lockdown in Spain likely to be extended to almost the middle of May, this will surely be known as The Lost Spring.

We have a list of jobs to done around the finca and I’m itching to get on with them, so that there’s something visual that we can look at and say, that’s what we did during the lockdown. But Spanish tax returns loom and The Boss is mired in paperwork and spreadsheets. Must start gathering my own together soon.

Meanwhile, I’ve been making impressive (for me) strides with The Novel. Well, it was about time, as I had the idea for the story when I moved here in 2004. Much has changed from the original storyline, but I think that the long gestation period has been beneficial – and the writing of it takes me temporarily into a world where there’s no COVID-19.

By this evening, I should have reached 51,000 words. Only another 30k or so for that first draft to be done. Say it quickly enough and it doesn’t sound too bad.

A New Chapter for Chico?

People who know me may guess that cats feature in the story. And one of our cats – Chico – features in this latest blog post. And sadly it’s not good news: Chico has been missing for a week.

Chico (right) as a kitten with his big brother Beamer
Chico (right) waking from a snooze in the dining-room window recess with Beamer (left) and Shorty.
A recent picture of Chico (right) with his brother Nibbles

Chico was one of the second litter of ferals born to Jetta in July 2011 and, unlike his siblings, he’s always been wary of us (and any other humans). We’ve never done anything to hurt or scare him (except take him to be neutered when he was a kitten and old enough), but he’s always the one who waits at a safe distance until we’ve walked away from putting his food out. He’s also nervous of having his photo taken and, because of that, we have few photos of him.

Yet, he’s also been happy to sit in our dining room window recess, as long as we’ve ignored him, and spent most of the daytime snoozing somewhere within sight of the house.

We have no idea why he’s so nervous around people but have witnessed that, of all the cats, he is the one who’ll chase any ‘outsider’ felines who dare to intrude on his (shared) territory. Bravery lurks within.

Plenty of Questions; No Answers

It is nigh on impossible to look for a lost cat in open countryside – especially as we’re in lockdown and not allowed to go out of our property except for shopping etc. Losing a cat, in whatever way, is always upsetting. What’s happened? Are they lying injured or sick somewhere? Have they found a new home? Too many questions and no answers. All we can hope is that he’s safe and well on his solo adventure.

Here’s a coincidence: Chico’s departure was exactly two years ago to the day that our beautiful Beamer – the alpha male of the glaring – disappeared. Beamer was adored (visibly) by his siblings (and us). He enjoyed being around us when we were outdoors and loved to be fussed. But he still disappeared. As has Chico.

Could it be something to do with the arrival of spring? A touch of wanderlust inspired by the rebirth of Nature? For Chico, it’s not so much The Lost Spring, as lost in spring.

Be brave, Chico, and come back one day if you can.

Jan Edwards ©2020

Lockdown Log – Day 17 – is Dusty’s Birthday

Posted
Filed under Covid-19, Health and safety

Here we are on the last day of March already. In some ways, 2020 is flying by.

Gratuitous sunset shot – not that we’ve seen one like this here for a while

This perception is aided by the fact that lockdown has reduced our accessible world to our own homes. Without the punctuation points of going out for walks by the sea, shopping trips, restaurant meals, seeing friends, and even medical or dental appointments, the days are blurring into one another.

Flashback to 2011

But today, March 31st, is a significant date for us. On this date, back in 2011, Dusty – our blue-eyed outdoor cat – and his three siblings were born just the other side of the wall at the far end of our field. You can read about his mum, Jetta, here.

Dusty is the only one of the first litter of Jetta’s kittens who’s still with us. Nine years old today. It’s not a bad age for a cat that was born feral and lives outdoors. He comes twice a day for his food and, although he has his own little territory somewhere down the lane, he also spends the majority of his daytime around our property.

My Dad suggested the name; he and his brother Ray were here for their spring holiday in May 2011, when Jetta decided it was time to bring her kittens up to meet us all for the first time. What joyful days we had watching these little bundles playing on the terraces and in the flowerpots. Dad said that the blue-eyed kitten reminded him of Dusty Springfield – and the name Dusty stuck. Not sure what Ms Springfield would have thought about that.

A Character of His Own

Like all our cats, Dusty has his own individual character traits. He loves to spend time in our company. If I go into the garden to do some weeding, he will appear suddenly and sit and watch what I’m doing. He loves to rub his head against our legs and goes a bit gooey when you stroke him anywhere on his head or neck.

But Dusty won’t be picked up, sit on a lap, or come into the house. He sometimes appears later than the others for his breakfast and – although the cats’ food bowls are always in the same place on our covered terrace – he usually sits outside our front door until one of us goes out and escorts him – à la maître d’ – to where his food is waiting. It’s as though he doesn’t want us to think he’s taking being fed for granted. Amusing cat.

Anyway, happy birthday to Dusty. He, of course, has no idea it’s his birthday, or that he’s nine years old (in human years). In cat years, that makes him around 52.

To mark the occasion, here are a few photos of the birthday boy.

Dusty’s turn at the watering hole
Heat rises: this annexe contains a water heater. Dusty is no fool to sit up here warming himself
Dusty perched on the balustrade – surveying the glaring’s territory.

Jan Edwards ©2020

Our Cats in Mallorca

Posted
Filed under Cats

Yes, we still have cats, even though you won’t have read much about them lately (although there are occasional sightings on my mallorcajan instagram page). Our feline family now numbers six and, if you’ve read about our cats in previous posts, you’ll realise we’ve lost two. It’s heartbreaking when this happens.

We were devastated in April 2018, when Beamer – the alpha male of the outdoor cats – disappeared. This beautiful big black-and-white boy went off one day and didn’t return.

If nobody else needs this chair…
Posing
Sleep in this window recess? A favourite spot for this boy

The evening before he left, he was sitting on the low wall separating our back terrace from the garden and seemed to be sniffing the air. Was he curious to find out what was beyond his territory? He’d always been much loved by his siblings, who came to him for washing, approval, and sometimes a bit of play. Perhaps he’d had enough of the constant attention from them?

We’ll never know what happened to Beamer, but it was out of character for this eight-year-old cat, who spent a lot of his time close to our house. Of course, we searched for him – as far as it’s possible to look for a lost cat in what’s a natural environment of open countryside and scrub vegetation. I spent many months last year hoping he’d stroll back onto the terrace for his food one day. I was convinced he’d come back but eventually accepted that he was gone.

Minstral’s first visit to the vet in Mallorca, hiding under the table from the camera-wielding vet nurse
Sofa, so good. Minstral liked a life of comfort
When Beamer met Minstral

In late July last year we had to say goodbye to our beloved Birman, Minstral. As they say in cricket, he’d had a good innings, being twenty-one years old at the time of his demise. We’d adopted him in the UK and brought him to Mallorca with our rescue Maine Coon, Smokey – who sadly died of leukaemia in our early years here.

Minstral was on medication and diet food for the kidney problem that often affects older cats; he’d been the most chilled-out cat we’d known, but let us know when he’d had enough. Twenty-one is a good age for a cat in Mallorca and our vet hadn’t seen one of such seniority at his practice. We brought Minstral home and buried him alongside Smokey in the garden. We had him for 17 years and I miss him every day.

Had We Lost Another?

What a yawn! Those teeth are made for nibbling

Nibbles – one of Beamer’s siblings, younger by just four months – is The Boss’s favourite of our cats. Despite being of feral origins, Nibbles likes to jump onto his lap and play the affectionate card for a few minutes…before living up to his name and nibbling any body parts he can reach (usually a hand).

On his eighth birthday (July 31st), Nibbles came for dinner as usual – but limping. He wouldn’t let us examine his paw and leg, and it was too late to take him to the vet’s that night; we set up a blanket in a box under our porch and placed food and water right next to it, so he wouldn’t need to venture far.

“We’ll take him to the vet’s first thing,” The Boss said.

Nibbles might have heard us say that: in the morning he was gone. We didn’t see him again for eight days and wished we had captured him and taken him into our house for the night. For a few days, The Boss scoured the countryside for him, even venturing into the jungle that is our valley-within-a-valley for the first time in many months.

“It’s impenetrable down there,” he said when he returned, defeated, sweaty, and covered with bits of vegetation. With temperatures at the time in the high 30s, we feared that Nibbles wouldn’t survive the heat if he couldn’t at least drink. An air of sadness and helplessness hung over us.

On Thursday, August 8th, we attended a start-of-the-grape-harvest party at a local winery. It was a fun evening, which proved to be a brief distraction from thinking about Nibbles’s likely fate.

The Prodigal Puss Returns

Our cats were waiting on the terrace, as usual, for our return. They must recognise the sound of our approaching car and time their arrival to coincide with ours. The Boss will often top up their food bowls at this point and, whilst he went indoors to fetch the cat chow, I stayed outside.

One of the cats was standing on our solar-powered fountain, drinking from it. I thought it was Chico until I realised that the leg markings were those of Nibbles. He was home and, although still limping, had survived the heatwave. As we hadn’t seen him for a week, he had probably conserved his energy by limping to the terrace for food and water at night, when the heat of the day was gone. I scooped Nibbles into my arms and was holding him when The Boss emerged from the house, carrying the box of cat food.

“Look who’s back,” I said turning around to face him. We were overcome with joy at seeing this much-loved cat again – but disappointed to see that he was now walking on only three legs.

Nibbles spent the night indoors this time and, in the morning, we took him to the vet’s. He hates the car and howled all the way there and back. The vet diagnosed a bite on his leg, gave him an antibiotic injection that would last fifteen days, and prescribed anti-inflammatory medicine for us to give him each day.

He’s still indoors and has become quite the home cat – so far showing little interest in the outdoor world and plenty of liking for sitting on soft cushions and having food and water within a few paw-steps. He’s now walking on four legs, albeit still with a slight limp; by the end of this week, Nibbles should be back outdoors with his feline family. Domestic life will return to normal. As normal as it ever is when you live in rural Mallorca and have a semi-feral feline family.

Jan Edwards ©2019