Callisto the Cat

Cats are assholes. They really are. I never wanted a cat and that was something I was absolutely adamant about. I was a dog person and no mistake. Nose boops, tricks, walkies in the park. Yes to all of those things. But cats. No. Litter trays, claws and hissing - and let's face it, there was always plenty of hissing if my granny's cat Mr Brown was anything to go by. And then I met, well, more like I was ambushed by, a small bundle of cheek and sass that came to be known as Callisto.

I was heading home from the train after work, just minding my own business and catching up on my favourite podcast. It was cold. The kind of cold that is really satisfying though - little sparkles of frost glittering on the tops of walls in the streetlights and a fresh, chilly nipping feeling on your skin. I snuggled up into my scarf, jammed my hands deep into the pockets of my coat and soldiered on, thinking about the promise of central heating and a cuppa when I got in. And there she was. I didn't see her but she saw me and then I heard her and her little cry ripped right through my very core, all the way to my grinchy heart.

At first, she simply watched me from under the shrubs that bordered the garden of a rather impressive Victorian style house. Then she let out a pathetic little mew that was barely audible but enough to let me know she was there. My first mistake was stopping. I may not like cats but hey, come on, I'm not heartless. When I see a tiny kitten crying out from under a shrub, I'm going to stop and see what the deal is.

I crouched down and held out my hand and a tiny little shivering bundle made its way over to me. And that was my second mistake. She was so small and so very, very skinny. No collar or tag. Just a tiny wee bag of bones. By the looks of her, this poor wee soul had never encountered the smell of a decent meal let alone eaten one. I picked her up and held her to my chest. Her exceptionally long whiskers tickled my cheek and made me giggle. Damn. It. All. She was cute. A fuzzy feeling crept into my heart. No. No. No. Oh, okay. "Looks like you're coming home with me little one." I said, unzipping my coat and helping her to snuggle inside in the crook of my arm. She clung to my jumper with her tiny claws and mewed again, kneading the wool of my sleeve. I gave her head a scritch on the head and that was my third mistake as she looked up at me and her huge dark pools of feline guile bored into my soul.

Well, I certainly wasn't going to leave her there to die in the cold was I? What sort of deadbeat would I be to do that? I'd take her home, warm her up, give her a good feed and a snooze and then I'd call a cat rescue so she could get the chance at finding a good home. Heaven only knows what my two Cavalier King Charles Spaniels were going to make of this fluffy usurper.

By the time I unlocked the front door, she had warmed up considerably and I could feel her little purring engine vibrate on my arm. I stepped inside and was immediately under attack from two yapping whirlwinds of unconditional love. I knelt down and gently opened my jacket. The whirlwinds caught a whiff of something new and stopped yapping and began the serious business of the Shniffshnoff. Two wet noses scanned my chest and came to rest on the now very vocal fluffball. Jupiter and Cosmo looked at me with their huge Spaniel eyes and pawed at my jacket, their feathery tails wagging in anticipation. I brought out our visitor and placed her on the floor. Another round of Shniffshnoff began and I was amazed by how gently they sniffed this new addition and how well she seemed to take to it. And then bedlam began. The two dogs began to yap excitedly and seemed to be enticing her to play, front legs out flat on the floor, wiggling bums in the air and tails flapping. It did not take much enticement. In a matter of minutes, my normally calm house had become a fluffy fun fest. Leaping, bounding, chasing. I shook my head and took off my coat, heading to the kitchen to put the kettle on for a warming brew.

As I made my way there, I was followed by the three amigos. I flicked the switch on the kettle and then searched for some food for our visitor. I figured some tuna and a little dish of cream might be a good start. First of all I filled the bowls of my two food vacuums and put them down for the zoo-esque feeding to begin. Picking up Little Miss Make Yourself at Home, I carried her and her meal to the sofa where she could eat in peace. To say she scoffed down the tuna would be a small understatement. She ate in a manner that would make the Spaniels proud and then made short work of the cream. Hmm, seconds it is. I made my way back to the kitchen and the fluffball followed me with a sassy bounce in her stride, buoyed by her full tummy. Her two friends greeted her with a level of excitement I had not seen from them since the time we spotted a fox on our way across the local golf course. They sat staring at her as she stood and tucked in to a second plate of fishy grub, her tail sticking up like an aerial. Grudgingly, I smiled and, for the first time, considered that maybe, just maybe, she fitted right in here.

The front door slammed shut announcing the arrival home of my other half. Jupiter and Cosmo raced to meet him - followed by Little Miss. "Hello my little floofers!" he called as he kicked off his shoes and rolled about on the floor, under attack from the Cav love bugs. He liked to think he was a big tough guy, but, really, he was a softy. A fellow cat hating softy. All was going well until I heard the roar. It would appear that Little Miss had acquainted herself with him by sinking her blade like teeth into his big toe. "What the...?"

I told him the tale of my feline encounter as I finally made that elusive cup of tea. He watched her darting around with the dogs as he listened to my story. "We're not keeping her," he said, taking his first sip, "I mean, it's just not practical. We're not cat people." I nodded as she leapt around the floor chasing Jupiter’s tail and then again as she followed us to the sitting room, circling the other half’s feet and nipping at his toes. "Cats are assholes. They're not loyal like dogs. I mean, they're just out for themselves - and they bite, and destroy the furniture." he said as he walked past the gnawed corner of the skirting boards - courtesy of Cosmo when he went through his chewing phase.

"I know. I just wanted to make sure she didn't die. I'll phone the cat rescue place." I replied, sitting back on the sofa. The two dogs leapt up beside us, taking up their usual spot. And then the bold one joined us. She stomped all over the sofa, trying out a variety of spots before finding one she was happy with - right on his chest. He experienced the tickly whiskers. He giggled. Mistake one.

“Well, I suppose they’ll be closed now until the morning so I guess you could just call them tomorrow.” He let her settle on his chest. Mistake two. “I mean, she’ll be tired tonight and will need to get a good rest first anyway.” He scritched her ears and smiled as she kneaded his jumper, purring, looking up into his face with those deep, dangerous, addictive little pools. Mistake three. "Damn. It. All." he said, looking at me.

"I know." I replied, grinning.

"So. What do we call her then?" he asked, sighing the sigh of a defeated man.

"I was thinking of Callisto, like Jupiter's moon. She hasn't left him alone since they met."

"Hmm. Okay. Well, welcome to your new home Callisto." he murmured, scratching her chin and smiling.

Callisto stretched, stood up, tail in the air and made her way to the Cavalier pile in-between us, her mission accomplished. She shmoozed her way in to the fluffy bundle, turned around a few times and threw herself down in amongst the floof, firmly part of our family. Cats just have a way of making themselves at home. They worm their way into your lives and immediately take over in a purry little bundle of love. I dialled the vet’s number while the other half shopped online for cat beds and collars.

“Hello? Yes, I’d like to make an appointment for a check-up for our new kitten please.” Callisto purred contentedly and drifted off to sleep in between her two new fur brothers. Like I said, cats are assholes.