Bonzer Words!: The Collectors
"My mother collected strays, most of them cats, as well as people...'' - and Shirley Henwood reveals that she now takes after her mother.
Shirley writes for Bonzer! magazine. Please visit www.bonzer.org.au
My mother collected strays, most of them cats, as well as people. They must have sensed she was part cat or something. There was always a cat in the family after we left Australia and came to New Zealand. What a disappointment that was. We wished we hadn't bothered. No shaky isles, no Maoris in grass skirts, no volcanoes or geysers. It just wasn't fair. We wanted to go back, but nobody listened. From my parents' point of view, it was a complete write-off. She never forgave him for forcing her to come, (he'd threatened divorce), and he was just the same - always at bowls or golf, or playing cards with his mates, or otherwise engaged. We girls were my mother's mates, and don't you forget it.
Now that my mother is dead, I keep the flag flying.
The first cat she collected was called Teddy. A beautiful, part Persian. That was when I realised that I had inherited the gene. I hadn't got on very well with my grandmother's cockatoo, or two Australian terriers, or a Sydney Silky we'd had, (they were afraid of me, I was too rowdy, they said). Well, what did they expect, have me creeping around like a little old lady? I'm not a dog person, although I quite like dogs, as much as a cat person. Cats just seemed to be part of our lives from then on. My mother had a cat called Biddy, who crawled from the road after being hit by a car, just to die in her arms. Well, you can't beat that. When another one, who was pregnant, was found dead in the gutter, my grandfather, who'd come to live with us, carried her in by her tail, to the strains of a thousand violins and a million tears. But still they kept coming.
Now that my mother is dead, I keep the flag flying. First, a crippled girl I befriended; later a connection, who was and is very ill, but refuses to die. A person with dementia, who doesn't know me anymore. I could stop visiting her, but I don't. My latest cat, who has developed thyroid problems, and now just had a growth operated on, is nearly sixteen. My husband thinks she should be put down, but he hasn't the guts to do it, or he doesn't really want to, more likely. I nearly brought home a young cat going up for grabs in the vets the other day, but I knew I'd be big trouble, so I didn't. Goodness knows who or what will pop up next. I try to stay inside as much as possible, so I don't get tempted to try and help all the lame ducks of the world. I think I've passed this gene, if that's what it is, on to my daughters. One has a friend who is not "quite right" and the other has had two big German Shepherds so far, that she's had to look after, as her husband hasn't got the time, although he's the one who buys them for himself.
Must go, my cat is hungry . . .
© Shirley Henwood
