WordSmith: Ginger, an exceptional Cavan cat

We need to talk about cats. Cats are like marmite in Cavan, we either love or loathe them. I know someone who’s actually terrified of cats, they physically recoil at the mere sight of a kitty. Then of course there is the black-cat and their association with witches and bad luck which gives them a bad name. I thought I was ambivalent towards cats, yet my algorithms’ tell me otherwise, as my social media feeds are saturated with cat videos.

When I worked in London, I was lucky to know a mega-cat before he became a Hollywood Movie Star – Bob the Street Cat. I’d walk through Covent Garden carrying the weight of Monday morning’s deadlines on my way to office mayhem; when the sight of Bob would lighten the load. He’d be sitting on his little mat as his human busked. Bob was totally unfazed by the fawning Covent Garden crowds thronging around him, taking pictures. He wasn’t on a leash, he’d sit loyally alongside his human, only leaving to attend a nearby alley that he used as his toilet. One busy lunchtime I witnessed an irate tourist who insisted the busker was a fraud who was disguising a dog as a cat. I can confirm, Bob the Street Cat was a bone-fide feline – he truly was a remarkable cat. One afternoon a Hollywood producer was passing by and like everyone else, became besotted by Bob. When she heard the story of how Bob had transformed the life of his homeless-human, she turned their story into the Movie ‘A Street Cat Named Bob.’ Needless to say, I saw nothing more of Bob the cat when he and his human became famous.

On the first week of my return to Cavan, I met a cat on the street. The morning traffic was heavy on the Cootehill road. As I approached the town I noticed a cat walking ahead of me on the pavement. When it began to saunter towards the busy road, I stopped; and fearing it was about to be killed by a car, I looked away. When I looked back I saw the cat sitting by the zebra-crossing. And when the cars stopped, off he set to the other side of the road where he sat down safely to survey his manner.

I crossed the road to introduce myself, “Hello,” I said, offering my hand. The cat head bumped my hand and said, “Miaow.” He offered me his chin to rub; I duly complied, “You’re a streetwise cat,” I said. This cat also knew his own mind, for when he had enough chin rubs, off he wandered.

One morning I saw two ladies chatting to him, “Is he your cat?” I asked. “No, Ginger’s an orphan,” explained one. I’d christened him Geoffrey, so it was nice to be formally introduced to Ginger. Sadly, Ginger’s owner had been taken into care; but the people on the street adopted him, and he had humans on either side of the road to look after him.

Thanks to Ginger, I bonded with the two women and they remain my good friends. It’s incredible how animals can bring people together. In the short time I knew him, Ginger brought all kinds of folk together; students on their way to school and college stopped to pet him, and in turn, talk to local residents. Drivers smiled and nodded as they stopped to give Ginger safe passage across the road; he was a creature who highlighted the care in his community.

Ginger was an elderly gentleman, at over twenty-years-old he was in the winter of his life. And so it was only inevitable that one day he wouldn’t be there. I met my two friends standing in Ginger’s spot; the look on their faces said it all, “Has he gone over the rainbow bridge?” I asked. They nodded in unison. Ginger died peacefully in the loving arms of his adopted human.

Back to that cat chat. There’s no doubt Ginger was an exception in Cavan; for I carried out an opinion-poll, asking people if they like cats? I was amazed how cats polarise people in Cavan, with many having cat-aversion. In some cultures cats are revered, even worshipped; Cavan isn’t one of them.

Unfortunately, I’ve abandoned the notion of opening a Cat-Café, there just isn’t the market for such an establishment in Cavan – not yet.