Listen to thisYears ago when I was a pupil at a very soulless boarding school, I discovered that the coal shed, cold and inhospitable though it was, was the hideout of numerous alley cats. The area was strictly “out of bounds” as nearly all the interesting places were! Even so, I felt attracted to these cats and tried to befriend them, but they were quite wild and unapproachable “except for one female with five kittens, and she would rub up against my leg so enthusiastically that she almost tripped me each time I entered the forbidden shed.
I began sneaking saucers of milk, porridge, and other scraps from the dining room to the cats after dark, and only then did I realise just how many there were! Everywhere eyes watched from the dark as the friendly mother and her not-too-sure kittens were eating. It became a challenge for me to try to befriend the others, so very different from the smug, well-fed and aloof cats belonging to some of the school staff, but any movement I made towards them sent them straight out into the night.
Occasionally, one of the braver – or hungrier – would slink cautiously nearer, and if I backed off to the door would approach, shivering, make a grab at a piece of food, and dash back into the shadows where, from the sound of it, I gathered it was shared with the rest.
For a long while, the only way I could get to see the other cats was to space several saucers across the floor away from the door, and then wait quietly for them to investigate and finally eat, often trembling with suspicion and fear. The presence of the leg-rubbing tame cat, and her easy acceptance of me and the food, may have made it easier for the others to overcome their probably justified misgivings about humans. It took months before the cats trusted me, months of regular caring and feeding “with no sudden moves on my part “before I could approach, and in some cases, even touch them.
On occasions I would become impatient and try to catch hold of a cat before it was ready to trust and accept me, and this invariably ended in disaster with my being hissed at, bitten or scratched before it escaped, terrified, into the darkness. And these occasions always set the clock of our friendship back by weeks, not only with the offended cat but with them all.
They were very different from each other in the way that they eventually warmed to me. Some capitulated completely and would allow me to scratch behind their ears, stroke them, or even pick them up, while others preferred to keep more to themselves, but in the end even the most hostile showed some degree of change in attitude, and I was permitted to become a trusted familiar in their circle.
This was a triumph for me. These were hardly your respectable neighbourhood cats, certainly very down-market from the prissy, pampered variety in the school building, but the coal shed became for all of us, each in our own way, a place where it was comfortable to be. I remember it today as a warm place, and also, perhaps, as the place where I learned some important things about caring.
This feature: Wastell, S. (1984). The Alley cats. The Child Care Worker. Vol.2 No.5. p.11
