I read the
Hunger Games before most people I know, which is something I like to point out
when people announce that they have just bought the box set of the Hunger
Games. I tell them of my plight in having to wait until the second and third books
were released. When people tell me with wide eyes about the ending of Catching
Fire, I raise an eyebrow and tell them just how many months I had to wait for
Mockingjay to come out, while all they have to do is select the next volume in
their box set.
So when, in
2009, a new kitten presented her beautiful self to me, it seemed only natural
to call her Katniss after the protagonist of the Hunger Games. Katniss is still
with us now, despite the fact that she is blind. When I told my mom over
Facebook chat that there was a new kitten around, she was hesitant enough, but
she’s a cat lover too. Then I told her that the gorgeous grey kitten whose
pictures I’d sent her was blind.
We’d only
recently brought home a very dysfunctional kitten, who subsequently urinated
over pretty much everything until we gave it back, so neither my mom nor my dad
were particularly enthusiastic about bringing home another one so soon, and one
that could prove to be just as difficult to train. Still, I had a week, a
camera, and a computer, plus Facebook. Over that week I took numerous photos,
played with baby Katniss around the clock, and wore away at my parents’ will
while tugging on their defenceless heartstrings, and so Katniss was drafted
into the fold.
We still
have Katniss, who despite being blind, can attack and savage your toes with
apparent ease, who can bring down birds half her size and who provides an
endless amount of affection. Before her, we’d never had a cat who would settle
on your lap, never mind on the back of your head, as Katniss did with me. She
would attempt to find comfort in my crossed legs as I sat fussing over her on
the kitchen floor, and then she would climb onto the back of my neck and settle
on the back of my bowed head, snoring as I read.
Katniss. Pic by Brenda Drumm |
After that,
her stance becomes more aggressive. Anyone living in my house knows what the
doorway meow means, so Katniss considers what follows fair enough, considering
that she did give a warning. She will walk over to you, meow once or twice
along the way and then falling silent. She will locate your leg or bare foot,
and take a quick but painful nip at your skin. She will then proceed to take
little bites out of you until you stand.
At this
point, you probably have a few bite-marks. No blood, but still very painful.
Typically, you’ll be upstairs, so you will have to face going down the stairs
with an annoyed Katniss. It’s unavoidable, really, because she will run ahead
and then sits, waiting for you. When you near, she will crouch, her eyes dark
and wide now, following the sound of your toes on the carpet like it’s a juicy
chicken bone. Then, as you pass, either with a futile attempt at sneaking or at
a run, she will pounce and latch onto your calf, nipping and meowing
simultaneously, which comes out as a shrieking growl.
This will
continue into the kitchen, where she will change tact and simply follow you,
meowing loudly until you reach wearily under the counter for the open tin of
cat food, and empty it into her bowl. Then, nursing the scratches on your
calves, you will limp back to your room and sit down, returning to your former
occupation. About ten minutes later she will arrive in and settle silently on
your bed or under it depending on the noise levels in the house.
Katniss is a
very habitual creature, always going outside at five in the morning to arrive
in at half seven ready to make the rounds with my mom, waking everyone up. I’ve
lost count of the amount of morning I’ve been woken to a loud and happy ‘purr’
as Katniss launches onto my bed and climbs all over me until I wake with my mom
urging, ‘come on, let’s wake them up’. She will always follow the same
procedure when she’s hungry, or when she wants to go outside.
We thought
that she would be dependent, unable to go outside safely, but Katniss navigates
our world with the ease of someone who doesn’t know that there’s anything out
of place with being unable to see. Now, I can’t play with other people’s cats,
because all my games require them to be blind, so that my finger scratching
right in front of their nose could be a mouse or anything that a cat’s mind
conjures up. Other cats will stare at your finger, and then at you as if to say,
“Dude, it’s a finger, what am I supposed to do with it?”
Katniss is
one of the best things that has ever happened to us. She’s so affectionate, so
boisterous and full of life. In every way a member of our family.
©EmmaTobin 2013
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