Tormented By A Pussy Cat As I opened the front door and stepped into the living room a huge lion coloured pussy cat almost knocked me down. I jumped back in fright, as it negotiated its way up on the table and then through the broken window. It ran through some bushes and disappeared in the cemetery. Ever since my arrival in Union Island, this pussy cat had tormented me. I had to find a way of putting an end to this. My job as a school teacher took me to Union Island in April 1978. I arrived on the island by boat in the wee hours of the morning. I had obsolutely no knowledge of the place, except to say that I was given the keys to an old Teacher’s house that was located a few yards from the Clifton cemetery. I learned that the house was where teachers from the Mainland stayed until their two years assignment was up. The truth is that the house was previously occupied by an old Head Teacher who had owned this cat. The Head Teacher was transferred, and, for some unknown reason, didn’t take the cat with him. The animal being left on its own, became an extremely wild pussy cat. On mornings, I got up early cooked my lunch and left for school I would return at Lunch time, only to find that my fish was eaten and a solid load of cat filth was there to greet me. At nights, It came around the house and cried like an infant calling its mother. God knows, this long tailed pussy cat was driving the hell out of me. I simply had to put a stop to it. By this time, I had gained quite a few friends on the island. A group of school boys visited me one day and noticed that I had a couple stones at my bed side. They became curious and asked why. I told them the story about the cat. The little boys reminded me that Union was a fishing community and the most popular method of catching animals was the hook. At first, I laughed at the idea but it soon became clear to me that I had no poison, no cutlass nor weapon of that sort so I had to take the little boys suggestion. The following day, I cooked my lunch as usual and secretly placed a fish hook in one of the fried sprats and left for school. At 11 30 am, I saw an old lady walking in the direction of the school. She asked for the half Indian teacher from the mainland. They directed her to my class. As she approached me, she shouted with a loud clear voice “mister, yo house mashing up”. I didn’t say a word but left for home. Upon my arrival, I heard the sound of an infant crying for its mother. Yes it was the cat. I had caught him. He was there, begging for mercy. Tears came to my eyes as I cut the nylon. My heart could not have allowed me. I had to set him free. Strange enough, that cat became my best friend. It lived with me throughout my tenure on the island.
Posted on: Tue, 05 Aug 2014 16:33:43 +0000
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