The Girl with the Goalden Boot

Sunday, August 06, 2006

 

He used up his nine lives



Gizmo was an adventurous cat, from the day I met him. I remember hearing little “meows” during one stormy night, grabbed my torch and went out in the rain to find the source of the cries. It was a poor ginger kitten, stuck on the roof of my neighbour’s (on the right) house. Since it wasn’t my roof and it was way past midnight, there was nothing more I could do except alert the neighbours in the morning.

The rain had cleared in the morning and the kitten had somehow found himself in our backyard. He was shivering, presumably from the previous night’s ordeal, and started meowing again. Knowing nothing about what cats ate except from facts I had gathered in fiction, I poured some milk in a takeaway container for the poor thing. After his breakfast, the adorable kitten wouldn’t stop chasing me around the backyard. He was so cute! He’d put his two front paws on my ankles and look longing at me, but I had to go to school, or go out somewhere (can’t remember which), and I had to return him to his owner. Our neighbours had probably heard his voice and came out looking for him, so over the fence he went.

Gizmo grew up quickly, and in about a year, he twice the size of when I’d first found him on that roof. He wasn’t an adult yet, and he was scrawny, but very friendly. He was a cat, but had the heart and attitude of a puppy. He’d come to our backyard quite often, and when he became bored, he’d sometimes walk along our window sills, meowing. Gymnastics must have been inspired by cats!

We had some of our walls and window sills repainted one summer, and obviously the windows were open so the paint could dry. While my brother and I were watching the cricket on TV, we saw something “move across” under the TV…Gizmo had somehow found his way inside our house! He crept in through one of the open windows and left his paw prints all along one of the newly painted window sills (much to our painter’s disbelief)! Needless to say, he was promptly removed from the living room. If Gizmo had crept in through my window, I wouldn’t have had his paw prints painted over. Hee.

Gizmo had grown up more and reached maturity, and the neighbours on the right (the owners) didn’t care much for him. And because Gizmo was not de-sexed, during mating season, he wandered all over the neighbourhood. You could sometimes hear him fighting with other cats in the middle of the night.

Our neighbours on the left fell in love with him, and because they used to have a cat, they knew much more about caring for him than I did, and they adopted Gizmo. Over the years, he would show up at their house at 7am, and then at 3pm. He never wore a watch, but he was always on time, no matter the weather. He loved all kinds of meat, but his favourite was barbeque chicken, accompanied by a bowl of milk. He didn’t like water, but we tricked him into drinking more water by diluting the milk, and pouring some hot water in his meals as a sauce.

Gizmo was pampered by our neighbours on the left. They bought beds for him, and let him indoors during the winter. Inside our neighbour’s, he’d park himself on a spot on the couch, right next to the fireplace. When it got to hot for him, he waited by the front door to be let out, and he was on his daily field trip around the neighbourhood again, until the afternoon.

When our neighbours on the left were on holidays, it was my job to feed Gizmo. Which was always fun because I’d go “meeeeeoooowww!” and he’d come running up the five steps to our porch and he’d wait patiently (ok, not always so patiently, but most of the time he was) until I’d come with his chicken or whatever packet of Whiskas I had. After his meal he’d slowly walk down the five steps and onto our driveway, cleaning himself, sunbathing, or both.

We have a real, living Christmas tree on the patch of grass next to our driveway, which I dubbed Gizmo’s Christmas tree. You may have seen it in some of my photos. The tree was just the right size for him, and he’d hide in the shade of the plants we had there, away from the blazing summer sun. I attached a bell to his flea collar one Christmas, but he lost it, probably during a fight. Last Christmas, I attached a green ribbon to his collar again, and a few days later, he lost that too!

As he grew older, there were times when he’d disappear for days, and when he reappeared, he’d have scars on his face. If we had the authority, we’d take him to the vet to get his shots and have him de-sexed. But Gizmo wasn’t ours, not officially. His injuries varied from a slight scratch, to a “hole” in his face. Flesh was actually clawed from his face by another cat. That was probably the worst. Sometimes his wounds would still be bleeding by the time he showed up in the morning. But his wounds healed by themselves every time. There was no need for a vet or medication.

A few days ago, Gizmo was found resting on the grass on the footpath. It was not unusual for him to sleep amongst the plants in our neighbour’s (on the left) garden, but Ed (our neighbour on the left) knew something had to be seriously wrong for him to sleep on the public path in our street. He quickly whisked him away to the animal hospital. As my mum and I were about to leave for mass yesterday evening, Ed told us that Gizmo was very ill and had to be put down. Gizmo was diagnosed with Feline Immunodeficiency Virus (FIV), which is like a cat version of HIV. FIV is spread through saliva, so Gizmo had probably contracted FIV ages ago when he was bitten from one of his fights. FIV cannot be spread to humans. Ed told us not to tell his wife Anna. He didn’t tell her he had taken Gizmo to hospital, and certainly not that he had breathed his last breath. Ed couldn’t break the news to his wife, who took care of Gizmo like a grandson.

I miss Gizmo terribly, so much that I cried myself to sleep last night. I miss him so, so much.

Lola Nadal 11:52 PM