We bought Hector when he was only 12 weeks old from a family in South London whose cat had kittens. My husband, Tim, took some time off work to coincide with my return to work after maternity leave and our daughter’s first birthday. He wanted a cat. “Kids should grow up with pets” he said. “Cats are great pets” he said. I don’t disagree with either of those statements. What I now know is that not all cats are the same.
Right from the beginning Hector made it clear he was not into cuddling or staying indoors. Every hand held out to him immediately had his tiny jaws around it. During the first week or so we kept him indoors, he bit, scratched, pounced and ate his way through a month’s supply of kitten food. He grew everyday. Bigger and bigger. When we finally let him out he scaled the apple tree, hopped the fence then fell straight in the neighbours pond. He then took off for nearly two weeks before showing up in the middle of the night crying to be let back in. He has been on so many of these walkabouts now, I look back and feel silly that I actually made missing cat posters that first time.
Hector loves our children. So much so, he wants to play with them like they’re fellow kittens. This goes bad very quickly. We all have scars from Hector’s over zealous physical engagement. The children are terrified of him. Hector can smell the fear. He now spends most of his time outside. He usually only comes in the house when he wants something. Usually more food.
We feed Hector 5 times a day. Most cat owners will question our sanity but trust me. If we don’t he will start eating the children. If it was just our children that would be one thing but Hector goes for postal workers, takeaway deliverers and neighbours. Anyone who might have food has their ankles attacked. So 3 pouches of wet and two big handfuls of dried food are put out everyday for King Hector.
Another consequence of cutting back Hector’s food is he goes out and hunts it himself. We do still do this once a week so that he gets some hunting in because it is good for him. Any more than a day of less food however, results in entrails and squirrel tails all over the garden. When the covers come off the garden furniture every spring, there is usually a neat little row of squirrel tails waiting for us. Yes Hector eats Grey Squirrels, song birds, pigeons, mice, newts… anything that moves – except (INFURIATINGLY) slugs, which would actually be quite handy. At least once a month a bird flies into one of our windows trying to escape from Hector. I do sometimes wonder if he is actually the Croydon Cat Killer.
And as you can see from the pictures, he isn’t fat as a result. He is just a big cat. All 6kg of him. After visiting the wild cats at the British Wildlife Centre I do wonder if Hector is part Scottish wild cat. Or part panther. He can certainly hold his own against the foxes who no longer defecate in our garden.
Many times we have had the discussion as to whether we should give him away to a more suitable home. And we always come to the same conclusion. Hector is our cat. Despite all the carnage we love him. No one else will love him like we do. In fact no one in their right mind would put up with his shit. If we don’t keep him he will most likely go from home to home until someone puts him down. So here we are. We are keeping him until he dies of natural causes. He is now five years old. Only around another 10 years to go…
