Amba: A Tale of One Kitty

We’ve always been animal people.

I don’t mean I have furry skin and six nipples, just that we love animals. And we’ve always had pets. A couple of dogs, and many cats. Horses. Ducks. Geese. Chickens. More besides.

Last week, one of our much-loved cats passed away suddenly.

We don’t know why. It may have been a snakebite, it may have been a reasonably well-known condition in cats that we knew nothing of before the event.

Amba was quite special to us. His mother, Skyla, came to us via a work friend, and before we could say “we really must have that kitten desexed” she was popping out babies. Three litters of four, born in our wardrobe, about six years ago.

Of the first litter, we kept Lily, who actually turned out to be male. Whoops.

When the second litter was born and Lily’s brothers and sisters had been sent off to good homes, he sat by the basket and attempted to get the little kittens to play. For weeks.

From that litter we kept Amba. Yes, another male. Amba is actually a male name from India, so we got away with that one. The third litter was entirely sent off to lovely people, and so Amba was the baby of the family. We often referred to him as “the baby”.

Despite being brothers and having the same colouring, Lily’s sleek, short coat, large size and unsettling cowardice around people contrasted with Amba’s small stature, incredibly long hair and complete imperviousness to any form of intimidation.

Before Skyla’s arrival, our black and white cat Scaramouche had ruled the roost, and he used to terrorise all the other cats and kittens. He would growl and hiss like a panther, and a particularly unsavoury panther in a bad mood having a rotten day at that.

He’d get right up in Amba’s face and hiss, and Amba would just stare back with his surprisingly round eyes. Blink.

He was a rather quirky cat. When he wanted attention, he would raise one paw and extend the claws, then just freeze. It was like he was impersonating the dragon on the Welsh flag.

And he often wanted attention.

He developed a taste for tormenting his big brother, and would hound Lily, pushing him around for no reason. Lily is twice the size Amba was and has paws like a lion, but for some reason put up with it.

Amba liked to perch on the back of the couch – sometimes he’d lay there so long he’d start to disappear down the back of it, as in this picture. 

This is a cat who demanded to be worshipped. Expected it. Since the Ancient Egyptians weren’t available, we got the gig.

He was a quintessential Nermal, the world’s cutest kitten, for his entire life. He was ageless. Not going to play with me? Blink. Blink. Blink. You can’t resist, can you? Blink.

But mostly, he liked to be comfortable, on his own terms. He had a specific spot on our TV-watching sofa and if any part of one’s anatomy, or any other object was intruding into that spot, he’d stare at you until you moved the offending part/item. Blink.

When it was time for bed, he’d turn up often and demand his spot. If this involved human movement, then that was expected.

He’d climb in next to Lady Devotea, and then place his head on the pillow, staring at her. Blink.

Her job was to then pull the covers up under his chin. The purring, followed by snoring, would begin immediately.

One morning seemed like any other; he spent the night in our bed. I went out for a few hours, and as I left, patted his head. He was on the corner of our bed.

Lady D & I went about our business, and the day progressed as days do, until mid-afternoon. I won’t describe the afternoon from then on. It was an awful few hours, and at the end of it, an Amba-shaped hole in our hearts.

Not just ours. His mother, Skyla, was always keen to round her boys up at mealtimes. Now, two weeks later, she still goes off to find him. But at other times, she lays beside the flagstone we’ve used to mark his resting place.

With Christmas fast approaching, we have been working on a festive special product, despite not feeling overly festive ourselves. It’s a rooibos and Assam tea mix with cherry and cinnamon.

Not surprisingly, we’ve decided to call this amber-coloured brew “Amba”.

To forestall some possibly commentary: Loving a pet does not take the place of a love for humanity, people are important; both up close and far away. It’s hard not to think of the people having a terrible time in The Philippines right now, for example.

So, hug your cat today. I don’t care that some cats are less lovable than others, and yours might actually injure you if you try. Pets give so much to us, and just ask for a little in return. Even full pet lives are short, so unless you’ve got a Galapagos Tortoise, there’s heartbreak ahead.

And it’s a heartbreak that is beyond the power of a nice hot cup of tea to alleviate.