Greek Cats on National Kissing Day

A chance to run a picture of the late Kitosh, much missed. Friday was, as I am sure you are all aware, National Kissing day. I do not take any notice of any National (insert a very silly and pointless thing or worthy cause here as appropriate) Days and so this one passed me by as well. Not that there was anyone around to kiss except perhaps the hotel cat who came close. But not that close.

I say hotel cat in that he wanders in and out of the hotel but does not actually live here. He – and a variety of other painfully thin creatures – live in the general area but are not sent packing by the hotel as they do serve a purpose: pest control, as well as making sad cat loving guests from the UK happy.

The attitude of the Greeks to such creatures is not one that self-indulgent British pet lovers can relate to. None of the creatures are neutered and so they breed away happily. But Malthusian controls ensure there is no population explosion. If the creatures get sick they die. If they cannot catch enough rodents/beg enough food from soppy hotel or restaurant users from Northern Europe they starve. Competition for a lady cat may lead to fights – war will take its toll.

It is the starving that bothers me. My cats have always been fat, well fed and pampered. Kitosh was told by his vet that he was overweight and probably diabetic. One of his replacements is known as Fat Cat. Not without reason. My over-indulged companions would not last a week out here. Neutered, doctored, well fed and constantly being stroked and hugged they would find the life of a Greek cat unbearable.

I find myself not finishing my muesli each day so that, in a covert manner, I can leave under my table a bowl with some oats and semi-skimmed milk for the skinny little creature that pops in and out of this gaffe to devour. So far none of the waiters – who would disapprove violently – have spotted me. My temptation is to go further and collect a plate of cold meats ostensibly for myself but – when –no-one is looking to push it under the table to give my feline friend the sort of meal Kitosh would have accepted as normal but which this creature can only dream of. It might, after all, give him that extra bit of body fat to survive the winter when a lack of tourists means less to eat.

I am sure that our attitude to animals is over indulgent. I cannot imagine many Greek cats get diabetes. But I still feel pangs of sympathy/ a sort of desire to become a crazed cat person bundling up dozens of these poor creatures to “rescue” them each time I come here.