As 2024 approached its end, I had no idea that a year on I'd have survived a heart attack and become the owner of six cats. Health I'll cover tomorrow; this post will be all about cats.
A kitten followed me home in early January, became pregnant in April, and in June gave birth to five healthy kittens. All of them have stayed with me. This was unplanned – but meant to happen. It was in the stars.
I had witnessed the mating, but didn't think it would come to anything; Wenusia was too young, she hadn't shown any signs of coming into heat. But 63 days later, right on schedule, out they popped. And here they all are (below). In the top left corner, Céleste, in the grey basket in the middle, we have Pacyfik (tabby/white) and with him Scrapper (tuxedo); in the top right corner, mum, Wenusia, the cat-colony starter-kit, in front of her Czestuś the Czonker, all 4.4kg of him, and in the foreground, Arcturus (clever with his paws).
It has been suggested, and AI backs this up, that there were at least two, if not three fathers involved in creating this brood. It's called heteropaternal superfecundation, when a female cat mates with two or more different males during one heat cycle, leading to a single litter of kittens with different fathers. Since cats are induced ovulators, multiple matings are needed to trigger ovulation. If these matings occur with different males within a short period during the same oestrus cycle, multiple eggs can be fertilised by different males, resulting in kittens with varied traits such as coat colour and character from the same litter.
As Wenusia, my adopted foundling, grew ever more visibly pregnant in late spring, I was thinking that I'd be giving away some of her brood once weaned (indeed I even had three potential takers lined up). However, once weaned, I realised that I simply loved these kittens too much to let go of any of them. I wanted to watch them grow and develop. I loved each one of them individually and as a group; as a family unit. It would hurt them too much to be separated from their siblings, and from their place of birth.
In practical terms, living with six cats is really no problem as I have a huge garden (nearly one acre/3,880 square metres) and a forest next door, and whether I tear open one sachet of cat food or two or three or six is neither here nor there. I'd also posit that taking care of one dog in an urban setting requires far more effort than taking care of multiple cats out in the country. Letting them in and out means nothing more than leaning over and opening the kitchen window.
The five kittens are unusual in that they live together with their siblings and their mother, in their own company, in the same place where they were born. They know each other, they know me and they know my house from birth. Familiarity. So important to the soul.
Making eye contact with my cats daily, I am totally convinced that they are conscious beings, with agency and personhood, aware of their own existence. Maybe their brains don't have the cognitive power that human brains have, but their level of sentience match ours. The tuning of their senses is different to ours (greater acuity of hearing and smell, sight that's optimised for movement rather than granular detail, taste organs that can't detect sweetness, and a body that can withstand extremes of cold better than us). Nevertheless, I'd posit that the essential experience of what it feels like to be alive as a cat is not dissimilar to what it feels like to be alive as a human.
The kittens are turning into cats; six and half months old today. Each one has a completely different personality. Scrapper, a quick-witted tuxedo tom, button-bright. Czestuś, the orange tom; big, fat, lazy and cuddlesome. The two tabby tom twins; Arcturus – the engineer, who can use his paws almost as if they were hands, and Pacyfik, who has accompanied me on my back-extension exercises every single day for the past two months – our little ritual. And their sister, the glamorous Céleste, the most beautiful cat in the world, with her long, silky hair that's such a pleasure to stroke; an expert tree-climber and explorer.
My day has acquired a new rhythm. An earlier start, feeding the cats, letting them out, cleaning the litter trays. Keeping tabs on who's in and who's out. The cats also mean I can't leave them for too long on their own (longer excursions mean having to organise support for feeding). But then I'm not one for long holidays to exotic countries so no great loss.
Castration looms for the boys, but Céleste will be left intact. She's unlikely to fall pregnant as quickly as her mother, Wenusia, for two reasons. Firstly, cats with the long-hair gene mature a lot more slowly than normal house-cats. Secondly, she spends her time outside surrounded by her four brothers, so an external unneutered tomcat will not have uninhibited access to her when she does come into heat.
I do look forward to the joy of another brood of kittens; it was certainly the high-point of this year, seeing them enter into the world, a world that to them is safe and secure and yet interesting, lots of land around which they can range. When I see them scampering about in the garden, chasing each other up trees, I appreciate the ennui of life as an indoor cat. And when I see them in my warm kitchen, fast asleep, belly-up, after eating their fill of moist and dry cat foods, I appreciate the security that they have.
I am definitely a fan of Felis catus as a species. The symbiosis between H. sapiens and F. catus works very well for me. They have enriched my life greatly, bringing me deep and rich joy, and I am thankful to them all. I hope all goes as well for them next year as it has in 2025.
Finally, a thank-you to Jacek K. for suggesting Doris Lessing's On Cats, and to daughter Moni for buying it me for Christmas.
This time last year:
Local hellos and farewells for 2024
This time two years ago:
An Alternative Theology
This time three years ago:
From the Long Review of 2022, Pt IV
This time four years ago:
S2 tunnel under Ursynów opens
This time five years ago:
The first year of Covid-19
This time six years ago:
Last night in Ealing, twenty-teens
[A strangely prophetic post, suitably dream-like in quality]
This time seven years ago:
The Day the World Didn't End
This time ten years ago:
Hybrid driving - the verdict
This time 12 years ago:
Pitshanger Lane in the sun
This time 16 years ago:
Miserable, grey, wet London
This time 17 years ago:
Parrots in Ealing
This time 18 years ago:
Heathrow to Okęcie
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