Cretan Cats
Palaeochora is overrun with semi-feral cats which will shirk away when you approach them, having doubtlessly been at the receiving end of many a kick and cussing.
They don’t bother the locals, but they have an eye for tourists. Sit anywhere at a table in the open air to enjoy your meal and they will appear, peeling away from the shade, and blink at you until you give them some food.
They are patient. They will sit and blink until they drift off to sleep. And eventually they will wear me down.
The first of them appeared at our doorstep when I was preparing the famous chicken. Cats can’t cope with chicken bones, so I brought out the parson’s nose and the cat’s eyes grew big and round, nearly filling her entire face. She kept them wide open in wonderment as she dispatched the delicacy.
The trouble is that with every morsel you give them, their number doubles.
The number of cats at the homestead stabilised at three, with some fighting at the periphery. All of them were in pitiful shape, with the otherwise healthy looking tabby coughing pitifully and—so I noticed when he turned around—bare patches marking where the mange had begun to take its toll. The emaciated tiny female that was always at his side looked like she had days to live, at most. But despite their pitiful shape they ate whenever they got the chance.
The remaining female, our first houseguest, was in better shape, although she might have been pregnant and appearances deceptive. She had a boyfriend too, but he wasn’t allowed to set foot on the terrace. We often saw her slink across the road to where he was waiting and they would walk off together, staggering into each other.
I didn’t know cats formed pair bonds. But I never took them for social animals either, at least not from what I knew about my own cat who was Supreme Ruler over the Neighbourhood—including the dogs.
As with old Mietze, you had to be patient to gain their affection, but when they overcame their fear they proved to be hungry for it. The homestay cats remained distant, but this beautiful white farm cat, which we encountered on the way back from the neighbouring village of Anidri, wouldn’t let go of John’s legs even after being approached by a curious sheep and—heartstoppingly—by a huge dog who took no notice of her but made it clear that we’d better move on.
Denni