Short Story

1996: FOR KAREN WITH LOVE

WAFFIE

By

R. Sinclair

WAFFIE

She was a small cat, not yet fully grown, and about to give birth. It was a late spring night and the wind brought rain in torrents. Princess, for that was her name, given to her by the human children who had picked out the little black and white kitten from the litter of three others, was lost and homeless. She had strayed miles from the place of safety where she had received food, affection and care. Now she lay in her den under an old shed on the outskirts of town.  For most of the night she lay with her paws tucked under her, occasionally napping or peering out with huge green eyes at the falling rain. There was no hunting that night and she was hungry.

The family, who had taken her as a kitten, were attentive enough to her needs which all life requires – food, warmth and shelter, which translated in her feline mind as affection.

Princess was coming into heat, she had become restless a was wanting to be outdoors to find a mate, and being innately curious, she had wandered too far this one time and could not find her route home. The family she had left were distraught at her loss and made every effort to find her, however, Princess knew nothing of this.

Just over half a year old, she had begun to be filled with strange insistent urges. The instinct to procreate began to dominate her and she gave off signals of cries and smell to all and sundry tomcats in her vicinity. And that night she became pregnant. This happened several weeks previously, and though her procreative urges had very quickly abated, they were replaced by maternal sensations which became stronger as each day and night passed.

Princess became a self-contained solitary creature, and with the inherent instincts for survival spent most of her time hunting, this became her prime concern, not only for herself but for the fragments of life growing within her. As the days passed she became thinner, except where her belly swelled with that of new life.  Finding food had become unpredictable and inconsistent and not always successful. Food was no longer regularly laid before her, her current situation meant food had to be caught or found. Everything that came her way that she found eatable she did. Over the area she roamed the little cat caught mice, voles, birds and once, a small rabbit which she killed instantly.

An elderly lady, who was also on her own, had noticed Princess foraging in her garden and had taken to leaving out little titbits for her and she found her way to that back door every day. But one day there was nothing left out for her, nor was there on subsequent days. The old lady had been taken into hospital but Princess did not know this and that source of welcomed food now simply ceased to exist.

Towards dawn the rain went off and she arched her back and stretched every sinew of her body then peeped out of her night’s shelter. The sky was lightening and the birds were heralding the new day. For Princess, it was a continuation of her struggle to survive.

She began to groom herself; this was something that she was extremely particular about, even in her present precarious circumstances. She wet her paws and cleaned behind and over her ears. She found a knot of fur that had to be untangled, and licked herself all over until her complete perfection of cleanliness was achieved. When she was finished the white of her coat was spotless, although her fur did not have the lustre it once had shown when she was better fed and cared for.

Though her movements were somewhat restricted by her swollen belly, with prefect judgement she scaled a garden wall, and sat on its top to survey her world. Birds, just as she was were searching for food. This now became her only concern. Dropping down gracefully and silently from her perch, she slowly moved along through undergrowth until she had a clear view of the lawn. Her concentration on one particular bird was total, and her lower jaw trembled and chatted as her eyes followed its movements. She was about to spring on her prey when a loud human cry directed at her, distracted her, and she abruptly took of the way she had come. Once out of harm’s way she slowed.

Princess had already discovered that not all humans show benevolence to cats. Some humans, she had found, could be positively harmful towards her. In her short life she had had missiles thrown at her with no doubt, intent to scare her, but even small stones are large objects in relation to small cats. It was only through luck and the poor aim of the throwers that she had avoided injury so far. It was all very confusing for the little cat, for other humans had given her attention and kindness, or had at least tolerated her. Her predicament was making her wary for she did not know which type of human she would next encounter.

Fortunately, it was kind human she did meet and this without doubt, saved her life, or at least the lives of her kittens. Karen, a young woman, going to and from her work had notice the little cat on several occasions and had always stopped to pat her and talk to her. Completely unintelligible though human speech was to Princess, she responded to the tone of voice and this human’s voice was completely non-threatening to her. That day, with her pregnancy well advanced, Princess was unsuccessful in her foraging, and was exceedingly hungry when the young woman stopped to talk to her. Princess began winding round her legs and meowing, the woman bent down and picked Princess up, stroked her and took her home. In her kitchen, Karen searched through her cupboards and found a tin of tuna. She thought the little cat was most appealing in the way she waited patiently sitting on her back legs with her front legs stretched towards the work surface where Karen was opening the tin. Princess ate the food greedily and purred when it was done.

Karen noticed as the wee cat was eating that she had a frayed blue collar round her neck, which signified that the little creature belonged to someone. She tried to discover if there was any identification on it, but if ever there was it had disappeared. While Princess was grooming herself in the living room before the fire, Karen made a phone call to the local Pet search, but no little black and white cat with a smudge of black round its nose had been reported missing. By this time, the object of the phone call was now curled up beside the fire.

“I will call you *Waffie for that is what you are”, she said to the little sleeping cat. Karen let her remain and there she did. Nine days later, Waffie gave birth to three tiny healthy kittens under Karen’s bed. Mother and babies are doing well.

*Waffie – is Scots for waif.