The Story of Theo(dora)
The story of Theo warrants mention in my blog because it was a bit odd how she came to be the newest member of our (rapidly expanding) family.
The first time I saw a rat I was on the phone to Kate (now White) at about ten pm, still bright light outside in the summer night, and scuttling movement outside the window caught my eye. Aw how sweet, I thought, a little fieldmouse. But on second thoughts, I realised it was rather too big for a mouse, more the size of a gerbil. Bugger, I thought, we have a rat.
The second time, I was playing with the boys outside in their new sandpit (1st birthday present for Patrick from granma) when I noticed something literally running over the top of his foot in it's hurry to get away and down it's hole. (The sandpit is under a treehouse raised on 4 stilts, underneath some trees, see pic).
Right, I thought, this is it. Time to get either a terrier or a cat. Terriers make a racket, lets get a cat. So, a post-it note advert duly went up in the local shop and about a week later, (I had been racing to the phone each time in rang in my enthusiasm that someone would of course have a sweet cuddly new born kitten which would have an innate propensity for ratting) the caller finally said something I wanted to hear.
"I seen yer ad, I got a cat, well a kitten, well a cat"
"Is it a cat or a kitten?"
"A kitten. 6 months old"
"Ok, great, and why are you wanting to get rid of her?" (for want of a nicer way of putting it)
"We have 5 children, one with autism, 3 dogs, 3 cats, and this one don't get a look in"
(alarm bells slightly ringing now, but the softie in me was thinking of this poor kitten, unloved and unfed).
So I went and knocked on the door, chained alsation barking like mad digging trenches with his claws, desperate to get me and eat me alive. ha ha, I thought. You are chained and I am not. Ya boo sucks. The door opened to a woman doubled over, holding her tummy, panting. We looked at each other for about 4 seconds then the penny dropped: "OH MY GOD ARE YOU IN LABOUR?" I asked (wondering why on earth she agreed for me to come round if she was).
It turned out she'd just had a hysterectomy and could barely walk, was looking after 5 somewhat feral children and was "ok". Well, not in labour, as boys and girls, we know that means you are NOT OK). So, she called for the cat, "Theodora, like the chipmunks) (...) and it obediently jumped out of the nearest tree and launched herself into her arms. What a good puss cat I thought, not wild at all. So I said yes, looks great, we'd pick her up after our hols.
Fast forward 3 weeks and I returned to their house, cardboard box and chopsticks (to close the lid) in the boot, really really excited about having a cat. Again, she was called and she jumped out of a tree and I looked at her. Her tummy was rather large. "She's not pregnant is she? She looks pregnant?" "No no no, we just managed to feed her up ready for you to collect her". (I knew at this point I was being a mug but the woman then swore on her five children's lives that the damned cat wasn't pregnant). So I pushed her into the cardboard box, closed the lid with the chopstick and drove home, realising fairly quickly that she'd jumped out of the box, was foaming at the mouth and was likely to jump claws outstretched onto the back of my head...needless to say I wasn't that relaxed either.
I took her to the vet and said "Ok, she's either got kwashiokor, or she's pregnant" and the vet replied, "yes, she's in her third trimester, you've got about 2 weeks. And by the way she's not a kitten she's over a year old". AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRG. Two small children, an aged dog, and now a pregnant cat!!
Anyhow, we fell for Theo's charms pretty quickly and decided that we'd find homes for the unborn kittens (rather than doing anything radical), and sure enough two weeks later we came home to find Theo sitting on two live and one squashed kitten, black tabbies, really cute. Their eyes have just opened and they are mewing for Britain but the boys love cuddling them and I have of course found really good homes for them. I slightly wish she had 3 as I'd love to keep one too, secretly. SO, all's well that ends well, and I'm wondering whether I won't get her spade just yet...
The first time I saw a rat I was on the phone to Kate (now White) at about ten pm, still bright light outside in the summer night, and scuttling movement outside the window caught my eye. Aw how sweet, I thought, a little fieldmouse. But on second thoughts, I realised it was rather too big for a mouse, more the size of a gerbil. Bugger, I thought, we have a rat.
The second time, I was playing with the boys outside in their new sandpit (1st birthday present for Patrick from granma) when I noticed something literally running over the top of his foot in it's hurry to get away and down it's hole. (The sandpit is under a treehouse raised on 4 stilts, underneath some trees, see pic).
Right, I thought, this is it. Time to get either a terrier or a cat. Terriers make a racket, lets get a cat. So, a post-it note advert duly went up in the local shop and about a week later, (I had been racing to the phone each time in rang in my enthusiasm that someone would of course have a sweet cuddly new born kitten which would have an innate propensity for ratting) the caller finally said something I wanted to hear.
"I seen yer ad, I got a cat, well a kitten, well a cat"
"Is it a cat or a kitten?"
"A kitten. 6 months old"
"Ok, great, and why are you wanting to get rid of her?" (for want of a nicer way of putting it)
"We have 5 children, one with autism, 3 dogs, 3 cats, and this one don't get a look in"
(alarm bells slightly ringing now, but the softie in me was thinking of this poor kitten, unloved and unfed).
So I went and knocked on the door, chained alsation barking like mad digging trenches with his claws, desperate to get me and eat me alive. ha ha, I thought. You are chained and I am not. Ya boo sucks. The door opened to a woman doubled over, holding her tummy, panting. We looked at each other for about 4 seconds then the penny dropped: "OH MY GOD ARE YOU IN LABOUR?" I asked (wondering why on earth she agreed for me to come round if she was).
It turned out she'd just had a hysterectomy and could barely walk, was looking after 5 somewhat feral children and was "ok". Well, not in labour, as boys and girls, we know that means you are NOT OK). So, she called for the cat, "Theodora, like the chipmunks) (...) and it obediently jumped out of the nearest tree and launched herself into her arms. What a good puss cat I thought, not wild at all. So I said yes, looks great, we'd pick her up after our hols.
Fast forward 3 weeks and I returned to their house, cardboard box and chopsticks (to close the lid) in the boot, really really excited about having a cat. Again, she was called and she jumped out of a tree and I looked at her. Her tummy was rather large. "She's not pregnant is she? She looks pregnant?" "No no no, we just managed to feed her up ready for you to collect her". (I knew at this point I was being a mug but the woman then swore on her five children's lives that the damned cat wasn't pregnant). So I pushed her into the cardboard box, closed the lid with the chopstick and drove home, realising fairly quickly that she'd jumped out of the box, was foaming at the mouth and was likely to jump claws outstretched onto the back of my head...needless to say I wasn't that relaxed either.
I took her to the vet and said "Ok, she's either got kwashiokor, or she's pregnant" and the vet replied, "yes, she's in her third trimester, you've got about 2 weeks. And by the way she's not a kitten she's over a year old". AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRG. Two small children, an aged dog, and now a pregnant cat!!
Anyhow, we fell for Theo's charms pretty quickly and decided that we'd find homes for the unborn kittens (rather than doing anything radical), and sure enough two weeks later we came home to find Theo sitting on two live and one squashed kitten, black tabbies, really cute. Their eyes have just opened and they are mewing for Britain but the boys love cuddling them and I have of course found really good homes for them. I slightly wish she had 3 as I'd love to keep one too, secretly. SO, all's well that ends well, and I'm wondering whether I won't get her spade just yet...
posted by alice @ 9:58 AM
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