COLIN HOGG
A KITTEN IS NOT JUST FOR CHRISTMAS, AS COLIN DISCOVERS
My mother, who’s not a good shopper, gave me a calendar for Christmas. She gave me some other things too – a big bag of liquorice (always welcome) and a container of ominous-looking powder that claims to make mashed potatoes even tastier.
The calendar was the worry, though. Because Mum gave it to me, I had to hang it up, so
I put it in my office where it won’t unsettle anyone else. It certainly unsettles me. Maybe that’s because it’s a calendar devoted to large, colourful photos of “lovely cats and kittens”.
The January kitten is pictured sniffing the air in a field of daisies, while wearing a pink polka-dot bow tie. February isn’t much easier to cope with, though at least it’s a shorter month. By the time December rolls round, there’s a danger I may have choked on a fur ball. I don’t know what Mum was thinking when she chose it and I don’t care to ask.
Calendars are difficult to choose, of course. I’ve bought enough wrong ones – often for myself. But I’ve never strayed quite as wrong as a calendar filled with photos of terminally cute kitty-cats.
It might be that it’s all my own doing. I think I suggested calendars made good gifts when Mum was having her annual meltdown over her empty list of Christmas present ideas. As mentioned, she’s not a natural shopper and, desperate to choose something for me, she must have recalled I have a pet cat I’m fond of.
And I am fond of Charlie, our cat. And it goes without saying that I’d love a calendar featuring 12 photos of just her, though not wearing a bow tie in a field of flowers. Charlie’s a dignified cat. Dress-ups aren’t her thing at all.
Putting up pictures of other cats for her to see seems tantamount to treason, but I can’t not hang up Mum’s challenging calendar. I suppose I’ll know Charlie’s spotted it when I find my office chair shredded.
Charlie, however, has been on very good behaviour ever since we got back from holiday. We left her alone for a record two-and-ahalf weeks this time, though I had a friend pop in every day or two to check on her and top up her biscuit feeder.
When I rang to ask how Charlie seemed, he generally said, “Angry.” Or, “Still angry.” But she’s been sweet as a pea since we came home. And it was worth upsetting the cat for that holiday, which involved all five daughters and all eight grandchildren together on an island for days on end.
There were others – sons-in-law and a boyfriend. No-one was ever angry, which was a good thing on an island an hour or so by ferry from Auckland. We rented two of the four houses on the island. Beautiful beaches were mere strolls away. Someone clever worked out a meal roster and it actually worked. The beer never ran out, the kids ran wild. The only injury was a bee sting. Everyone swam, even the baby.
It was such a success, there’s talk about doing it again. I’ll be marking it on the calendar.