Cats

I’m in Greece with my family. My kids post pictures of themselves all over the internet with their heads tilted to the side and their eyebrows up, their tongues out (to look coy?), with the sunset behind them, mouthing the words to songs, covering their smiles with their hands (to look suprised?) and etc. But I’m not allowed to post any family pictures from our family trip because it’s ‘embarrassing.’ I respect that so instead of beautiful pictures of my beautiful family in beautiful Greece, I will talk to you about our Greek cats. Becuase they are entertaining and because I love cats. And also, everyone here (in my family) is over talking about the Greek cats.

We have visited Kefalonia three years in a row now and every year we (fine, mostly me) are enamored with the feral cats. There are always lots of them and they always have distinct personalities. At home, we have three very well fed, healthy and spoiled cats. They lounge, bat hairbands around the house, dash through the plants in the garden, sleep for eighteen hours wherever they want and we cater to all their needs. The youngest, Tokyo, is a hussy and is often reported by neighbours to be on their beds or sofas or kitchen floor. Our neighbours also cater to all her needs.

Greek cats, on the other hand, are a bunch of ragamuffins. They are frequently missing big chunks or the entirety of their ears. They are scruffy and scabby and have deformities because they are probably inbred. They are skinny and skittish. They have scars on their faces and open sores from abcesses on their sides. They fight, shrieking in the long grass with the gentle tinkling of goat bells in the background. They crouch under the pool furniture, wide eyed, sometimes one eyed, watching and ready to flee. They drink from the pool They are opportunists. They are scavengers. I’ve never seen them play. They are survivors.

This year, we are staying in a different part of the island than usual. It’s posher and more full of other tourists than the village we usually stay in. We have rented a beautiful villa with a view of the sunset over the sea and close to lots of beaches. The villa is modern, has a pool, a well stocked kitchen, a washing machine and everything we could possible need for a week away. Upon our arrival, while everyone else was running around the house, picking their rooms and exclaiming about what an upgrade this place was, I was feeling forlorn because….I mean, where were the cats? In our old place, the cats came running when we arrived. They were prolific. We had cats in the house and on the counters, begging for food while we ate and trying to get inside the fridge every time we opened it. They fought under our feet and tried to get into our beds. Here, in our upgraded abode, it seemed the cats were nowhere.

But they were just waiting. There are definitely fewer of them, but they are here. First came ‘Alpha.’ He is a brownish tabby with a broad face and bright eyes. He had my number immediately. Alpha walks with a limp and one of his green eyes is slightly darker than the other one. He has learned all the tricks of the trade: standing on his back legs like a meerkat, widening his eyes, cocking his head, meowing pitiously. Cat food went onto the top of our grocery list, above actual food and toilet paper. By the next morning, to my delight, several of Alpha’s rough looking friends had joined him. Scabby could be Alpha’s sister. Also possibly the mother of his children. As suggested by her name, her face is covered in scabs and she seems to be missing an eye. While Alpha is picky about the cheap cat food we got him, only eating the red pieces, Scabby is probably pregnant, so she’s not discriminating. Rusty is a black cat with red highlights who comes during the quieter times and when the other cats are done eating. I get the feeling Rusty is low cat on the totem pole. And then there is Sphynx aka Alpha Alpha. He is beautiful and looks different than the other ones. He is long and elegant and has the clear blue eyes and bat like ears of a hairless Sphynx cat. He is watchful and serene. He sits with his front legs tucked up underneath him, waiting. He doesn’t come boldly into the house like Alpha but when he is around, Alpha backs down. He is the Alpha Alpha.

Tonight, I fed the cats two tins of sardines that were supposed to be for my husband and children. They were frantic with anticipation and I had to stand outside and monitor them to prevent them from fighting each other. They each had their feeding station and they ate the sardines like my beagles eat their dinner every night: with relish. I felt like a true crazy cat lady. The only thing I was missing was my housecoat. When the feeding frenzy was over, they licked their scruffy coats and wiped their crusty eyes and went off into the night, seranaded by the goats.