TALES OF MY FATHER
My Father ……. Jack-of-all-Trades, Master-of-None ……. an enigma
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TALE SEVEN:
MY FATHER (AND MY MOTHER!) & THE CAT
PART SIX: FIGGY & MY MOTHER
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My Mother, at the age of 83 years, and me in Chapel Hill – September 1996
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Unfortunately for my Mother, the ancient, ear-chewed, miserable-mannered, mangy-looking Tabby Cat of an indeterminate age named Figgy had taken an immediate shine to her. It was literally love-at-first sight on his part, but I have to confess, affection was not returned. It wasn’t that she disliked the cat, she simply did not return, in full, the affection that he showered on her!
Sadly, Poor Figgy showed to shower his affection on my Mother in a most unpleasant way. Whenever possible, he would leap onto her lap during her visits to Ann. This, in itself would not have been too terrible were it not for the fact that while he was enjoying stretching himself on her lap, he dug the claws of his front paws deep into my poor Mother’s upper legs. This assault, for that was what it was, most often drew blood and always proved to be very painful. Immediately upon returning home, my mother proceeded to clean her wounds with iodine, which was commonly used at that time for minor injuries.
Cat Scratches and Bites can be problematic if left untreated
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One of the most serious infections that can occur after being scratched by a cat is, Cat Scratch Fever (also known as Subacute Regional Lymphadenitis; i.e. an infection of the Lymph Nodes). This is a bacterial infection affecting lymph nodes that drain the sites of inoculation and is one of the most common causes of chronic Lymphadenopathy in children and adolescents.. Bartonella henselae, a gram-negative rod bacterium, is considered the principal etiologic agent (i.e. the cause of the ailment).
Patients with this malady usually have a history of sustaining a scratch or bite from a cat (generally a kitten). The initial symptom is the formation of a Papule at the inoculation site, followed by solitary or regional Lymphadenopathy within one or two weeks, which is tender.
Papules
The ailment is accompanied by a fever and can last for two months or longer.
An enlarged Lymph Node in the Axilla of a person with Cat Scratch Fever
and wounds from a cat scratch on the hand
It is estimated that approximately 40% of cats and kittens carry the bacteria. However, it is a relatively rare disorder since only 22,000 cases are reported are treated for it each year in the U.S. However, an unknown number of moderate infections perhaps go untreated since the sufferer perhaps mistakes the symptoms for Influenza.
High Power View of Bartonella henselae following staining
Although Bartonella henselae does not induce illness in cats, it is spread from cat to cat by fleas. Although it is not thought that fleas can directly pass the bacteria to humans, good cat-flea control will reduce the risk of infection. Cat Scratch Fever is not contagious between humans and it would seem that suffering one episode of the disease most likely means that one will not be infected again.
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My Mother and Ann became firm friends very quickly, and as this was an especially difficult time in our lives, she welcomed finding a new friend and confidante. Once this happened, Ann often invited my Mother down to enjoy a cup-of-tea and a chat and, in turn, my Mother invited her to our little home to watch television. At that time there was one the one channel, BBC Television, which did not present programmes all day long as it does now, but began its evening programming at 7.30 p.m.
BBC Television during the mid-1950s
Left: BBC Television Presenters: Top, Mary Malcolm (1918-2010);
Middle, McDonald Hobley (1917-1987); and Sylvia Peters (1925-2016)
Middle: Top, Test Card; Bottom: Introduction to the BBC Television Newreel
Right: Family watching The Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II in 1953
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Whenever tea was being served at Ann’s, no sooner did my Mother sit down at Ann’s kitchen table or in one of her armchairs, then the gruesome beast seized upon the opportunity to leap on her and begin to spread open his paws and make ready to dig-into her thighs with his long, sharp, cruel claws. In order to avoid as much of his savage attack as possible, my Mother took to lifting the villain up and cradling him in her apron until his claws were well-and-truly caught in the fabric and he had fallen asleep or was sitting contentedly and quietly purring. At such times she felt confidently enough to lower him back down.
Young Girl with a Well-Behaved Cat
Later my mother took to filling her apron pocket with several folded tea towels, after which, Figgy was able to sit on her lap and claw to his heart’s content without inflicting pain or drawing blood on her. However, she needed to remain vigil since the miserable brute slept lightly, and once awaken, liked to stretch himself and return to digging his claws into her once more.
Young Girl with Cat wrapped up in a Blanket
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We quickly learned that Ann was very sensitive when it came to this poor flea-bitten, ratty monster and gave a strong impression that she would not tolerate any criticism of her moldy cat. Ann seemed totally oblivious to both the physical condition of this mangy-looking beast, as well as to his vicious nature shown especially to my mother. She was forever using idiotic terms of endearment when addressing Figgy and generally behaving as if the poor wretched, miserable creature was a Prince in disguise!
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I remember Ann telling us of the many occasions when she had argued and literally fought with some of the men that worked at the depot at the far end of the street. At this time, the depot was used by a fish-packing company and was where the company maintained its lorries. Apparently during Figgy’s free-roaming days, he had the habit of stealing into the depot in the hope of finding a fish or two. Figgy evidently was caught on occasion and chased away. However one lorry driver went so far as to kick poor Figgy in his teeth during one of his raids, which explained the absence of his upper front teeth (i.e. his incisors). Seemly Ann had witnessed the vicious kick and immediately unleashed her full fury on the lorry driver!
Now, I am certainly not advocating violence on either man or beast, but if any creature ever deserved to be chastised, it was the poor moth-eaten and scrawny Figgy. But I have to admit that a kick in the teeth is somewhat excessive even in response to this vicious and violent creature! After all, cats are hunters and lovers of fish. So it was natural for Figgy to want to try and find some tasty morsels in the depot.
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Cats do not have any teeth for grinding. All of their teeth are adapted for seizing prey and cutting and tearing flesh. In addition, there is a groove on the labial surface of the canine teeth (i.e. the fangs), which is an adaptation and thought to allow prey to bleed around the tooth.
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Toothless Cats
Following the loss of some his teeth, Ann decided to restrict Figgy’s world to the confines of her flat. Here he was allowed free-range to roam throughout her two-room apartment and to jump and sit on all chairs and tables, as well as onto and into her bed. He was also allowed to walk anywhere he chose on her kitchen table. Although his realm had been severely restricted, Figgy was still the master of all he surveyed.
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For her part, my Mother was able to reap a certain vengeance on this wild cat thanks to houses being heated at the time by the burning of coal or coke in individual fireplaces found in most of the rooms of the house. As Ann and my Mother were friends, Ann often asked my Mother if she would enter her flat in the early evening and light the fire during winter months in order to have the place warm by the time she arrived home. This required my Mother entering the flat and being alone with the nasty cat. I was never allowed to be privee to what happened between them when she went to light the fire, but I am sure that something passed between them resulting in Figgy scurrying away poste haste in the hope of seeking shelter and escape from my Mother’s wrath!
Tom getting a Bashin’ with a Broom!
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I have to confess that whenever I was trusted to go into Ann’s flat to light the fire, I was always sure to seek out the wretched Figgy and, by means of a firm, but gentle-ish push delivered by the inside of my foot, the moth-eaten brute was eased out of my way and sent across the room! At the time, I felt no guilt for my action and still do not for it for this was War and neither Figgy nor I hid our mutual dislike for each other!
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On a number of occasions when I went into Ann’s flat to light her fire, I would find Figgy in Ann’s bed or hiding underneath it. He enjoyed slipping under the bed covers and moved right the way to the bottom of the bed. I was always amazed when I saw the little hump in the bed and marveled that he was able to breathe!
Hiding under the bed
When he heard me in the room, he would crawl out from under the covers and poke his nose out. Next he would crawl on top of the bed where he looked a total mess: his fur was rumpled and wet from perspiration. It was at such times that he looked his least attractive! After a minute or so, he would climb down from the bed and slowly stroll over to where his food and milk were.
Following a few laps and a nibble or two, he went into his litter box to relieve himself. When he had completed this, he would return to the bed and slowly clamber down to the foot and presumably went back to sleep.
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A FINAL VINGETTE
THE BATTLE ROYAL
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One final tale regarding my Mother and Figgy involves our cat, Tibbles. For all intents and purposes, Tibbles was considered to be my cat, but he was a Free Spirit and wandered where he wished being subject to no human. He was a beautiful black cat with one white spot on his neck and had a very long tail. He walked with great dignity and maintained a very elegant appearance. He was the complete opposite of Poor Figgy who was decidedly mangy to look at and far from elegant.
We lived at the top of the house and Tibbles loved to jump out of the window facing the street and onto the Parapet. From here, he scrambled up onto the roof and ran across to the other side of the house and then down to the Parapet at the rear of the house and into our flat via the open window there. He would next fly through the flat and repeat the circuit several times over. My parents said that the cat indulged in this energetic activity when the weather was about to change! I was never sure of this explanation.
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As I have said, Poor Figgy was not allowed out of Ann’s flat. The door to her flat was always closed. Tibbles often sat on the stairs leading from Ann’s entrance to ours and waited for a small gap that he would be able to squeeze through whenever her door was opened too far. Tibbles was constantly thwarted in his quest to gain entrance until one evening when Ann failed to close her door when she went downstairs to answer the three knocks at front door, which was the sign that she had a visitor.
Tibbles did not wait to be invited to enter Ann’s flat. Quick as a flash, Tibbles jumped from the stairs and sprung through the gap and into the flat. One can only imagine what the sight of the interior of her flat looked like to him. Was it like an Aladdin’s Cave to be explored or was he merely looking for Poor Figgy and to throw down the Gauntlet?
We shall never know for suddenly, my mother and I were shaken by a series of crashing sounds as pots and furniture were knocked to the ground together with loud, blood-chilling cat screams filled the air. I remember my mother jumping up and said one perhaps the greatest understatements that I have ever heard when she announced that Tibbles must have breeched the door to Ann’s flat!
The Fourth Crusade (1202-1204) – Entering Constantinople in 1204
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My mother next ran over to the open door to our flat and closed it! Not only did she close the door, she then locked it! And only then did she begin to call Tibbles to come here!
Gates from the 1190s at Chepstow Castle
Although the closing of the door together with the locking of it followed by her request that Tibbles was to come here happened over sixty years ago, whenever I think of these series of events, I am reduced to a helpless jelly, as I collapse (literally!) with laughter! I remember being surprised that she closed the door, however it was the locking of it that did, and continues, to cause me to break into uncontrollable laughter!
The idea of requesting that Tibbles return home when he was obviously in the midst of doing moral combat was quite ridiculous. I imagined that he had the back of Poor Figgy’s neck tightly gripped between his teeth and was proceeding to shake the life out of him and so was in no mood to release the poor creature.
However, as I have just made clear, what really broke me up, and continues to do so (as I am typing!), was that my mother locked the door! As young as I was, I remember telling he that should Tibbles return, he was unlikely to turn the door knob and enter our flat! After saying this, my mother must have realised what she had done and unlocked the door and open it and called again for Tibbles to return. By this time, Ann had returned and we could hear her attempting to separate the brawling cats. However, she had little success, as the sounds of crashing furniture and cat screams continued to fill the evening air.
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My mother now thought it necessary to venture downstairs. Before she left, she told me to remain in our flat and close and lock the door. Once she left, I went out onto the landing so that I could hear the battle better. My mother went into Ann’s flat to help her separate the cats. She had had the foresight to grab a broom from the landing and take it along, which I later learned was of immense value in separating the combatants.
Retreat is the better part of valour
Falstaff – from Henry IV Part One
Soon my mother had chased Tibbles out of the Ann’s flat and he quickly came back home where he looked very, very proud of himself. My mother remained to help Ann clear up the battlefield and, from my vantage point on the landing, I could hear the sounds of broken objects being put into a bin. Apparently as my mother tidied up, Ann sat in an armchair and soothed the rumbled feathers of Poor Figgy!
Later my mother told me that Poor Figgy was very much the worse for wear and that Ann was extremely upset about what had happened. I was told by my mother, in no uncertain terms, never to mention the incident to Ann. I was also chastised strongly for laughing whenever I thought of the battle, which of course never had the slightest effect on him.
My mother remained annoyed at both Tibbles and me over the incident for several days. Tibbles did not seem to worry about upsetting my mother, but did decide that the better part of valour was to stay out of our flat for a while and wait for my mother’s annoyance to recede.
Tibbles never got into Ann’s flat again and never seemed to want to as he gave up sitting on the stairs waiting for an opportunity to enter it.
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Regarding this vingette, I do apologise to all cat lovers for my insensitivity …………. although I do like cats and hate to think of any cat being mistreated, I ask that the reader to please forgive me for finding the incident something to laugh about. I am sorry, but I have to stop typing now since I can not control my laughter yet again!!!
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