Mrs. Pepper's Cats-5

The story continues with the dramatic loss of Marmalade.

Chapter 5

Marmalade

(Missing)

Cats, big and small, domestic and wild are territorial and they establish distinct areas where they function. Their home range or base where they live, sleep and eat, their territory or range which they defend, where they hunt and where they potentially mate. Domestic felines which are allowed to roam outdoors will establish their home ranges and territories, although the home range for female house cats is only about two hundred square metres.

In the wild, the area of the home range generally relates to the availability of food. If food is plentiful, a large home range is unnecessary, but if food is scarce, it isn't. Thus in Africa lions and other big cats, and feral cats the globe over, may travel far and wide. Cat territory consists of networks of paths that are patrolled regularly on a routine basis. Cats mark their territory by scratching, spraying, depositing urine or faeces or by rubbing secretions from glands against objects.

They have scent glands along their tails, on each side of their foreheads, their lips, chin and the underside of their front paws. The secretion from this array of glands is used to mark the areas they see as their territory.

Havana and Marmalade, despite being domestic animals who had a guaranteed food supply, still exhibited  these innate rituals. They sprayed, deposited urine and faeces and left secretion and scratch marks as markers to other cats in the locality. These markers contain data about them as individuals such as their sex, age and health and what times of day they had visited. Other felines read such markers frequently, like a village notice board. The marking of territory does not deter others, but it does result in competitors 'time-sharing' the territory in less densely populated areas, such as where Mongoose Barn was located. Cats are largely solitary in nature, unless intact and in ready to mate, and they generally work hard to avoid chance encounters with other cats which could lead to conflict and even injury.

It is well known that domestic cats need to be kept indoors for some time if moving home, as without having scented, it is common that they will become disorientated and lost even only ten feet from their residence. Equally if they inadvertently move outside of their territory they may not find their way back.

The latter it seems is what befell Marmalade one summer evening when she was still under two years old. Mrs Pepper was prone to herding her two charges in after dark and locking the cat flap to prevent nocturnal wanderings. That evening after enjoying a bit of light gardening after work, Mrs. Pepper ate her salad supper in the garden and sat reading as the sun slowly began to set. At about ten o'clock she decided to go indoors, have a cup of tea and get ready for bed. As she went inside Havana followed her in and went to the kitchen to have some dry cat food and some fresh water-Mrs. Pepper was particular to change the water twice a day in the hot weather. Mrs Pepper was about to shut the cat flap when she thought of Marmalade. She had a quick scout around the house but Marmalade was nowhere to be found. She went to the front door and called her name to no avail. She went to the back door and again called out to Marmalade without a response. Thinking nothing of it she went about her business, fully expecting the more daring of the sisters to turn up as she was prone to each evening.

After her hot drink she changed into her pyjamas and brushed her teeth. She fetched a glass of cold water from the kitchen and placed it on her bedside cabinet. She had looked out for Marmalade throughout the evening and reluctantly decided to scout the house again with the hope of finding her curled up with Havana in their soft basket.

Somehow she already knew. Call it a premonition, call it what you will but Mrs. Pepper had already accepted her search as fruitless. And sure enough Marmalade was nowhere to be found. Mrs. Pepper was beginning to fret. She always worried about her cats as they were her lifeblood. Her only connection with the sanity of affection. Yes she had a close group of friends and a wide circle of social contacts, but when all was said and done, following the untimely death of her husband, when she curled up alone at home, Havana and Marmalade were all she had in the world.

She paced. She opened the front door and the back, calling Marmalade's name plaintively in the hope she would heed the maternal concern and return to the fold. But the night was silent and only Havana responded on hearing her owner's distress, by sidling up and rubbing her head on Mrs. Pepper's feet. Mrs. Pepper knew she would not rest and so took a blanket out from the pile under the lounge table, lay on the settee, turned News 24 on low volume, in case Marmalade was to meow, and snuggled Havana between her legs for a reassuring tickle.

Having drifted off after a taxing week at work, she awoke some two hours later, startled and mildly disorientated. Havana had withdrawn to her basket and as she began to focus she could well see that Marmalade was not in the basket with her. Her head cleared, she switched off the recycling twenty-four hour news programme and conducted another, more thorough, inspection of the cottage, entering every room and checking cupboards just in case Marmalade had got herself inside by accident. She even checked the dishwasher and the tumble drier. And given that Havana had once fallen into the toilet bowl, she checked these as well, just in case.

When she came up empty she felt a coldness descend. Neither cat had ever been away from home so late into the night. Marmalade had once disappeared for a short time before the farm house refurbishment had been completed. Marmalade had gone exploring the empty building, managed to get under the floorboards into the cellar and become trapped. Her meows were heard plainly though from the courtyard and Mrs. Pepper had summoned the owner, who had come immediately and released the animal. Mrs Pepper considered her cats to still be young and to an extent still vulnerable, her babies. She told herself not to worry, but it was in her nature to do so and she tended to worry more about animals than humans.

She eventually sidled off to bed but could not rest, so she put on some mindless late night TV programme-a repeat of Home and Away, a house hunting programme, which was partly in and around Calpe and Alicante, Spain with which Mrs. Pepper was familiar.

She eventually drifted off, awoke briefly just long enough to extinguish the drone of the television and slept fitfully until the dawn began to break. As the morning sun spilled in through the roof light she came too, hopped out of bed, quickly emptied her bladder and brushed her teeth in the ensuite, struggled into her dressing gown, then made her way briskly along the corridor to the lounge, hoping to see Marmalade and Havana curled up asleep in their place beneath the radiator. She had taken the risk of Havana going out during the night, leaving the cat-flap unsecured so that Marmalade could get in had she returned.

As reality set in she realised that Marmalade was still not there, she stooped and knelt by the cat basket and stroked Havana's soft chocolate coat.

'Where is that sister of yours?' she asked rhetorically.

Once again she went to each door and tried calling, softly this time due to the early hour, but to no avail. She tried hard to keep thoughts of Marmalade lying dead by the roadside out of her mind but it was a struggle to do so. She kept telling herself there was a simple and rational reason for her disappearance. Cats often went into sheds, garages or other buildings out of curiosity, to hunt or to seek warmth, and sometimes got locked in. Marmalade had developed the habit of climbing into the cabs of vehicles and perhaps, just perhaps she had done so and would be discovered by the driver in due course. Despite trying hard to remain rational and hopeful, tears welled up and the lump in her throat moved her to deep sobs. She poured the coffee she had brewed into the half mug of warmed milk, placed it on her side-table by the settee, before scooping Havana out of her basket and sitting her on her knee for comfort.

She began to formulate a plan of action, and as she was prone to do, she wrote a list. It was Saturday morning and for that she was thankful as it gave her the opportunity to concentrate on finding her wayward cat. Besides she did not feel able to leave the cottage and concentrate upon work.

She decided that she would conduct another search of the cottage, even though she knew in her heart it was a waste of time. But something was nagging her to ensure she literally turned over every leaf. Next she would extend the search to her garden, including the shed and the garage and then radiate it out to the courtyard and surrounding areas of the small development.

She sent texts to several of her neighbours with whom she had amicable relationships, asking them to check their sheds, outhouses and garages. At times like this she thanked her lucky stars for mobile phone technology. Next she text two good friends whom she normally joined for breakfast at the local Waitrose store each Saturday for a chat and general discussion about all manner of things. They had named this 'Bickerfest' as it often deteriorated into heated debate, especially so far as Neil, who she had known for decades, was concerned. Simon, whom she had also know for a long period of time, was more circumspect and less prone to pushing his own point across.

She asked them to break protocol and come to her cottage at ten o'clock for coffee and croissants and to help her widen her search should Marmalade not be found in and around the development.

By Nine o'clock she had showered, dressed and had looked thoroughly through her shed, garage and garden. She had received texts back from Nicky, who also had two cats, and from Debbie, who preferred dogs, and lastly from Helen who had no pets. All confirmed that, despite searching, they had no sightings of Marmalade. All three offered to assist Mrs. Pepper further if needs be.

Simon and Neil readily agreed to the change of routine and were more than willing to help find Marmalade whom they both knew well. Claire, another friend, but not a participant in the quaintly adversarial 'Bickerfest', also came over They all turned up early, had a quick breakfast and then headed out to complete a wider sweep of the locality with Mrs. Pepper.

They separated out, Simon doing a circuit of the fields to the south of Mongoose Barn, Neil to the north, while Mrs Pepper and Claire walked down the long drive towards the public road and separated, covering a mile in each direction checking drainage ditches and hedgerows.

They kept in contact by mobile. Two other neighbours joined in the search when they met in passing and Mrs. Pepper explained her dilemma. However, and despite so much goodwill, Marmalade remained illusive.

Simon and Claire stayed on into the evening to keep a distraught Mrs. Pepper company, they ordered a take-away and Claire offered to stay the night so that the search could commence next morning. In the evening Mrs. Pepper and Claire designed fliers with a photograph of Marmalade to be pinned up around the area asking residents to report any sightings of the wayward feline. Mrs. Pepper focussed her attentions on finding her beloved animal and with Claire's help and distraction went to bed exhausted and slept, if but fitfully.

The next day Simon and Neil turned up again and all four extended their search into the villages half a mile in each direction from Mongoose Barn. They posted fliers on every few lamp posts and any other surfaces they could, and with permission from some residents and some shopkeepers, who were open on the Sabbath, they posted them on garden gates, in windows and on shop-fronts.

In her distress Mrs. Pepper recognised the value of good and trusted friends and told them so. They hugged and she knew they genuinely wanted to help her find Marmalade, but by dusk she was still missing.

 Although tearful, Mrs. Pepper rustled up a light supper with Claire's help. A bottle of red wine was removed from the collection Mrs. Pepper had inherited from her mother. They ate and drank in solemnity, with Neil in particular trying to lighten the mood to pick Mrs. Pepper's spirits up.  Claire helped load the dishwasher and after coffee the three friends departed, leaving Mrs. Pepper alone once more.

She knew she had to face work next morning but did not at all feel like sleeping. She sat with Havana on her knee listening to Leonard Cohen as she did not have the stomach even for rubbish TV. She wished she was a drinker, which she wasn't, because it would be a release from her distress to be able to slip into an alcohol fuelled slumber.

She did however eventually drop off to sleep on the settee, waking at around midnight and like an automaton, took herself off to bed.

Next morning she rose, showered, ate a light breakfast with latte coffee, prepared herself for work and did a circuit of the garden calling out to Marmalade, but was met with disappointment again.

After work she drove slowly along the road approaching the housing development, scouring the hedgerows and verges for signs of her missing cat. She parked her car in the courtyard and walked round the site again, calling out constantly for Marmalade. By bed time she resigned herself to the inevitable. She had begun to accept that she might never see Marmalade again but in the back of her mind an optimistic vein still flowed.

A week later nothing had changed other than one phone call in response to the posters. A woman has spotted a cat asleep in her green house in the village but the description bore no similarity to Marmalade. Mrs. Pepper felt so very disheartened and deeply sad.

For her Marmalade was gone, despite holding on with ferocity to a belief that she had simply wandered off and would soon return. Slowly she sank into realisation. But even so she refused to totally let go.

She began to be concerned for Havana, whom she felt would be lonely without her sister. She telephoned the breeder from whose litter Havana and Marmalade had come to discuss the possibility of taking on another kitten, but she put it on ice as she was consumed with work and spending time trying to locate her kitty.

By day thirteen Mrs Pepper had become numbed. Hope had died and she decided that she must let go the soul that was her Marmalade.  Marmalade must be dead in a ditch or a remote outhouse. She rued the decision she had taken not to place collars on her cats because of the risk of strangulation.

She arrived home from work, exhausted, dejected and forlorn. Another Friday evening and a weekend to traverse trying to come to terms with her loss. She stopped at the entrance to the long driveway approach to the converted development, stepped out of the car and shouted 'Marmalade' at the top of her voice. She waited a few seconds looking around but anticipating failure again. And so it was. She drove on and into the courtyard, locked the car and unlocked her front door. She stepped inside feeling dejected and forlorn again. Taking off her jacket and hanging it in the cloakroom she went into the lounge. A quick visual sweep told her that Havana was out so she went into the kitchen and switched the kettle on to boil.

She was struggling to move on and decide what to have for her supper and felt she needed the reassuring meow of Havana to calm her. As if in answer to her plea she heard the cat flap open and close so went to greet her one remaining cat. She looked at her, ready to make a greeting but her overly stressed eyes told her something was wrong, something was different. She stared hard at the beast in front of her which she knew was not Havana, and suddenly and with great joy, she realised it was an emaciated, badly dehydrated Marmalade.

The joy she felt cannot be described. She was overwhelmed with floods of conflicting emotions, relief, elation, ecstasy, concern and disbelief. As she was taking it all in and Marmalade was rubbing up against her, Havana appeared through the cat-flap, unconcerned as she walked past her sister and entered the kitchen to eat. Mrs. Pepper quickly closed the cat-flap as Marmalade wandered round the house reorienting herself.

After a quick call to the emergency vet, she retrieved the cat-carrier from the garage, gently bundled Marmalade inside and whisked her off for a thorough medical examination. The poor animal had lost one third of her body weight and was severely dehydrated. The vet looked her over carefully and administered an enema as she was also very constipated. He prescribed special formula tins of high calorie cat food and confirmed that otherwise she was not injured and in relative good health.

Mrs. Pepper felt her prayers to have been answered. She nursed her beloved Marmalade back to health. She was very weak and sleepy for days but soon began to recover and in ten days was back to normal. To this day no one knows why or where Marmalade was for thirteen days.

One thing had changed though. Having had all of Mrs. Pepper's attention for all this time Havana was unimpressed with this sudden intrusion and gave her sister the cold shoulder, from then on becoming known as Mrs. Jealous. 

Reviews

[Island Hippy]

Aloha John, I read the tag line "dramatic loss of Marmalade" and thought the worst :) this was a great chapter and I felt for Mrs. Pepper. this highlights the special bond we form with our pets. Loved the happy ending and especially Havana's reaction ...haha. Izzy

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Thank you Izzy. Most of the story actually happened!

[Island Hippy]

I could tell :)

[Andrew Leister-Frazier]

There is a writing contest on this site for pet stories. I think this qualifies.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Many thank yous Andrew.

[CAPOLAVORO]

You are really good even when it comes to stories. Nice to read more of Mrs. Pepper. I like cats so much. Keep writing.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Thank you Capolavoro. She is a real person.

[CAPOLAVORO]

Oh I wanna meet her then. :)

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Havana is real and so is Marmalade and the stories really happened.

[wordman]

well john this might one day be a tv series

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Ha, ha, I think not Ron as cats don't make great actors, nor compelling viewing (other than in nature programmes). Thank you for taking the trouble to read.

[wordman]

well don`t forget morris !

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Morris?...............

[wordman]

a tv commercial,morris the finicky cat

[John Alexander McFadyen]

We Brits (oops I am looking for independence!-Scot) seem to have missed this one?

[wordman]

o k , see you later,going to work now

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Cheers Ron. Don't work too hard!