BLOOD ON THE BOUGAINVILLEA

When she first appeared in our garden, it was spring time in the Arabian Peninsula and it was a day very much like today. The air was fresh and light and the plants and trees were enjoying that brief moment of repose, before the raging summer would condemn any plant or animal unsuited to the region, to burn to a cinder. Unsuitable plants not tended with the care and attention of a Japanese cultivator of Ruby Roman grapes, would promptly die with the onset of the inferno. Unsuitable people would pack their belongings and flee to milder climes. But we were in it together - the Bear and I and the street cats. We were in it together for the long haul; one burning summer after the next. But for the time being we celebrated the onset of this temperate season and drank mint tea in the garden, where we could get a closer look at our new arrival.

Biancat was clean, well-fed and still appeared to have all of her most important teeth. She certainly did not seem to be in great need of a new place to shelter, which led us to take a rather dim view of her needless aggression towards the cats already occupying the garden. But it was Titus who had brought her to us and he wailed with such sorrow when we attempted to shoo her away, that we soon understood that he would very much like Biancat to be able to stay in his favorite garden, despite her rather disagreeable traits.

Compound No. 5 in the desert contained twelve houses, and it was one of the few with not only plants and trees growing in every garden, but also the soil surrounding the compound was lovingly tended by the dedicated hands of one hard-working gardener. The green-belt now surrounding the compound was thick with soft grass, well-established plants and tall Acacias. When the fragrant, white blossoms fell from the Frangipani trees, they punctuated the grass like confetti during the daytime and rather like a carpet of stars by night. The compound was a sanctuary in a sea of yellow dust and grey concrete; it was a haven for all creatures, including us.

The Bear and I had observed Titus for many years. He was essentially a white cat, whose head, tail and fore-legs, seemed to have been draped in the fur of a brown and black, striped and spotted Arabian Mau. The Bear was certain that he had seen glimpses of the mother years ago and was adamant that this cape and boots which Titus sported, was the imprint he had inherited from her. But what distinguished Titus most of all was his paternal lineage. The Bear would always note that Titus’ father had been the “First Guardian of the Compound”. This made Titus’ blood-right “indisputable” the Bear would say. When Titus had grown big enough, he patrolled the green-belt of the compound with his father – the enormous, all-white bruiser known as Bull. It was the sudden disappearance of Bull that led Titus to leave without a trace. We thought him dead. But after two winters in “exile”, he suddenly reappeared in the back garden, asleep on the roots of the Acacia tree.

At that point in his journey, food and drink were of little interest to Titus and he consumed only what was necessary to keep death at bay. He spent his days curled up with his head pressed against the tree; his sorrow seemed to go as deep as the roots of the Acacia. After seven days in this contemplative state, Titus started to patrol the green-belt once more. The Bear concluded that he had certainly decided to “take up the mantle of his heritage and resume his responsibility as Guardian.”

Titus was generally benevolent. However, he concealed an iron paw under his fur. He tolerated the presence of various street cats in the compound, but there were rules to be respected by all. The sick, the aged, pregnant females and mothers with kittens who were not yet weaned, were welcome and benefitted greatly from his protection. Males and females of fighting age were generally permitted to eat and drink but not to linger. Maintaining a respectful distance was a must. The Bear had noticed that Titus’ blacklist was populated by badly behaved adolescents in particular, certain females of enemy lineage, a coughing ginger cat with a missing tail and a vagabond Persian called Black Peach. Nevertheless, Titus’ magnanimity was such that even the blacklisted were still allowed to pass through for food and water, but they were neither to be seen, heard, nor smelt by Titus. They were to pass through the compound like all the other spirits and shadows inhabiting the dunes of the desert. If any one of them put a paw wrong or dared to breach the peace, Titus would extend to them the courtesy of a first warning, but a great misfortune would befall the obdurate transgressors.

The Bear considered Biancat’s coat to be unremarkable with no symmetry. She was mostly white with a haphazard splattering of brown, black and ginger patches, which judging by her disposition, she almost certainly acquired by rolling over her siblings just before exiting her mother’s womb. What she lacked in symmetry and sweetness, she made up for in intelligence, though her black-lined, emerald-green eyes were unrivalled. Only a fool would question her mastery of the art of survival in one of the most unforgiving environments on earth. And she also proved herself to be an adept navigator of the unpredictable landscape of feline politics. Indeed, Biancat was as open to negotiation and diplomacy, as she was to the deployment of one or more of her sharpened claws. She understood that her introduction to the compound and Titus’ favorite garden required diplomacy, which she demonstrated for as long as was absolutely necessary, and not a moment more.

Our back garden was Titus’ favourite because the Bear made sure that it was constantly supplied with food and water and it was also where Titus would come to recover from the worst of his battles. The Bear has always been convinced that Titus remained deeply attached to the garden because it was the place of his reawakening and the starting point of his journey to “fulfil his destiny as Guardian.” Some among us might feel it had more to do with the cornucopia of food available in the garden and the fact that it was from here that the Bear would take him to the vet if necessary.

The Bear only ever took Titus to the best vet in the desert and Dr. Pablo had become one of Titus’ most ardent admirers. After a particularly vicious bout with the Lion-Headed cat, an appointment with Dr. Pablo was unavoidable.

“Ah ha! Titus the Garden Cat, I mean the Guardian Cat! So very nice to see you again Sir.”

“He just keeps fighting all the time,” the Bear explained.

Although it was the Bear who would take Titus to the vet, I was the one who always made the appointments and the Bear found my refusal to register Titus under the name: “Titus, son of Bull and Guardian of the Compound,” absolutely intolerable. My insistence that “Garden Cat” was more than enough to help contextualize Titus for the vet, would invariably lead to the Bear accusing me of frivolousness. It was clear though from this particular visit for which I was present, that the punctilious Bear had nevertheless been slipping the “Guardian” in behind my back for many other appointments.

With a big smile on his face Dr. Pablo reached into the box, took Titus by the scruff of his neck and held him up into the light. He finally proclaimed with great admiration:

“This is the problem! This is the problem!” pointing reverently at Titus’ testicles.

The struggle to inject the antibiotics through Titus’ thick skin and coat only prompted yet more praise from Dr. Pablo.

“Oh my, he has titanium skin!” he shouted.

“He is built for the street! Who would mess with this guy? Not me! Not even him,” said Dr. Pablo laughing, as he waved his hand in the direction his resident Pitbull asleep in the corner.

By the latest and most accurate counts made by the Bear, at least twenty cats visited the garden throughout the day and night before Biancat made her first appearance. In addition to those passing through, there were six permanent fixtures who had recently come of age and were now by even the Bear’s standards, too old to still be living there. They were the offspring of Mimi-Snake-Eye, a brown and black Arabian Mau with a serrated pupil. Since no one had moved them on, these adolescents seemed to judge that they should just probably stay in the garden forever, having been deposited there by their mother.

Every one of Mimi-Snake-Eye’s kittens had benefitted from Titus’ protection. But when the natural order of things did not instigate their departure, the Bear predicted that Titus would be forced to nudge the natural order in the right direction. Mimi-Snake-Eye had long since moved on because this is what all the mothers had to do eventually. She understood that in time each kitten would venture beyond the garden walls and establish a new life elsewhere. But little did she know that this lot had chosen to do otherwise. As the Bear said: “Mimi would have been appalled to see them still here at this age.”

Benjamin, the only male of the litter, had become accustomed to the life of a useless libertine, eating all day and nestling next to his sisters for warmth in the winter. But most intolerable of all was his rudeness. Benjamin had somehow imagined Titus to be his peer and equal, and thus someone he could jostle with at the food tray. Not only that, his five sisters were starting to attract a growing number of adolescent males from the outside. Enough was enough. The Permanent Six were strong and healthy thanks to Titus, but his polite warnings had gone unnoticed and according to the Bear, Titus now considered this litter to be: “an unfortunate source of chaos threatening to upset the peaceful equilibrium of the compound.”

The sun was at its zenith when Benjamin pushed Titus aside at the food tray with a little more moxie than usual. In a sudden maelstrom of screeching, kicking, clawing and biting; Benjamin was unceremoniously and brutally cast out of the compound along with his sisters. All that was left behind in the favorite garden was a hellscape of fur, blood, urine and excrement, which had flowed and splattered freely during the heat of the battle. The blood of Mimi-Snake-Eye’s offspring dripped from the leaves of the pink Bougainvillea, into the shiny, metal water dish below and dispersed through the once crystal-clear water, in a spiraling motif of crimson tendrils. Needless to say, the Permanent Six were never seen nor heard of again.

From that day on, Biancat positioned herself day and night on the roof of the water tank in the favourite garden. The Bear concluded that this strategy allowed her to see enemies approaching from both ends of the compound at all times. Any male vagabonds, adolescent or fully grown, would be met with the full force of Biancat. She pursued them on sight and gave them several bloody reasons never to return. She would only take leave from her watchtower for brief food and water breaks under the Bougainvillea, before quickly resuming her position. Titus meanwhile, would patrol the green-belt particularly at night, when vagabonds and chancers thought they might slip in unnoticed. Fourteen days after the eviction of the Permanent Six, Titus joined Biancat in the favorite garden. They sat shoulder to shoulder under the shade of the Bougainvillea with the food tray and water dish beside them, in what was interpreted by the Bear as “a silent acknowledgement of their victory.”

Weeks later and following several days of absence, Biancat reappeared in the garden with three exuberant kittens following dutifully behind her. They were being introduced to their kingdom and safe-haven. Two were males, one with a classic coat of a brown and black striped Arabian Mau, the other was as black as a thunder cloud in the desert and the female was a miniature replica of Titus from nose to tail. All three however inherited their mother’s piercing, black-lined eyes.

The first six months of their existence were bliss. Between playing and eating until their bellies wobbled, they would bundle together under the shade of the plants and float away on a cloud of untroubled, deep sleep. Biancat washed her kittens one by one with vigor and dedication – all were clean, healthy and well-fed because she was a consummate professional on all counts. In the afternoons, Titus would join them and be greeted by each member of his pride, with licks, gentle nose-nudges and tails lovingly draped over his back.

However, by the time his kittens had lived through the three seasons the desert had to offer, Titus was becoming more cantankerous by the day. Though he continued to fend off new contenders, maintaining his position was taking its toll on his now worn-out and scarred body. While his daughter had taken to giving him pre-emptive scratches on the nose, it was not her that seemed to be bothering him. One day, after the last rains had come and gone and the summer had started again in earnest, Titus climbed down from the Acacia tree into the favorite garden where his sons, though big now, greeted him with the same love and affection they had done when they were mere scraps of fur. After he had eaten and drunk in the usual place, he carried out his habitual inspection of the garden, but this time he seemed to be doing a much more thorough job than usual. The Bear was sure that certain odours were piquing his interest – namely those now emanating from his two adolescent sons. Biancat watched silently from the shade of the Bougainvillea as Titus approached the long rectangular flowerpot filled with succulents. On top of this mattress of succulents, his stripey son lay sleeping with his head tilted to one side and his tail and forelegs draped lazily over the rim of the pot.

“This can’t be good,” said the Bear. “He looks like Marat in his bath.”

Indeed, something about the scene provoked a sudden rage in Titus and the situation was only made worse by the sight of his other black-furred son snoozing in the cardboard box which everyone knew belonged to Titus. Titus’ ragged ears flattened against his head and he started to growl in a low, threatening manner. The stripey boy suddenly jumped up alarmed, at a sound he was unaccustomed to hearing. Now Titus hissed and started to inch closer to him with virtually undetectable micromovements.

At this point, Biancat could have turned her back on the tragedy playing out before her eyes but instead she got up, moved straight over to the scene and positioned herself right in the middle of it. She was now firmly between her son and Titus.

“Oh, she’s done it now!” remarked the Bear nervously. “She’s crossed the Rubicon.”

But that day, Biancat did not hiss, wail, arch her back, or even fight – rather, she sat very still and silently bored into Titus’ skull with the fury of her black-lined eyes.

That day, the Bougainvillea did not witness bloodshed and its thorns and leaves remained unstained, but Biancat knew, as we all did, that she and her offspring were now ‘felines-non-gratae’ so, she embarked on a new strategy to save just a small part of her Empire. Indeed, Biancat took all of us by surprise when she decided to appeal to the only one for whom Titus would roll over – the Bear. Biancat had witnessed the Bear pick Titus up; she had seen him take Titus away in a box and bring him back strong again; and she had seen the Bear chase away and growl at Titus’ enemies when Titus was too weak to do so. With regards to the growling and chasing, I had asked the Bear not to engage in this on multiple occasions, lest the neighbours see or hear him, but he felt that it was a must – after all he was not called the Bear for nothing. However, most importantly, Biancat knew the Bear was the one who made sure the food dishes were always full and the water was always clean and cold - so naturally he was her target.

The front garden was as equally supplied in food and water as the favorite garden and Biancat made her claim over it with a very well-thought-out diplomatic offensive. Every night for several weeks, Biancat would wail loudly and no matter who went to see what the problem was, she would not cease until the Bear came to her himself. When he approached, she would drop from her mouth whatever offering it was she had brought him and would then continue to wail loudly until the Bear had taken a proper look at it. Only when the Bear had patted her on the head and said: “Thank you Biancat that’s very nice,” would she permit herself to eat the offering. Her estimation that the Bear would not wish to eat her gifts himself was indeed correct. All in all, the Bear received a variety of favours including: pigeons, doves, mice, toads, various species of lizard, multiple chicken carcasses, headless rats and a bag of beef-entrails carefully selected from a nearby bin. Upon the delivery of her final gift of a squashed cockroach, Biancat seemed confident that given the high praise she received, she had ‘won’ the front garden.

The denouement of all these extraordinary events had seen the Bear swear fealty to both Titus and Biancat. It no longer mattered that we knew nothing of her lineage because she had “conducted herself with courage and dignity on more than one occasion” so said the Bear. Henceforth, Biancat was also referred to by the full name given to her by the Bear of course: “Biancat, Daughter of the Shadows and First Diplomat of the Compound,” or just plain “Biancat” when the neighbours were within earshot. Biancat also eventually became the proud recipient of a small, green velvet armchair, albeit one with a broken leg, which she reclined on with regal aplomb while keeping a close eye on the garden gate. She soon delivered a new litter under the shade of the arching branches of the desert rose and when the kittens were weaned, she eventually abandoned her haven for their sake - just as all the mothers did. Titus continued to patrol the outer perimeter of the compound and would sit stoically at the entrance in the same manner as his white-coated father, fulfilling his responsibilities as the Guardian - much to the Bear’s admiration.

While it was widely acknowledged that Biancat remained under the protection of the Bear, she would only ever return to her abandoned garden by night, in the company of all the other shadows who sought to pass through the compound unnoticed. She did not visit often because she was after all a diplomat. And she almost never instigated any bloodshed, also because she was a diplomat. Albeit an essentially bad-tempered one.

As I drank the last drop of tea in my glass, I wondered out loud why it was that Titus chose not to fight Biancat that day.

“It must have been because he respects her so much!” I opined casually.

The Bear stopped reading his newspaper and slowly put his tea glass onto the garden table. He then removed his glasses and looked at me with what I can only describe as a mixture of disdain and disappointment. Where had I been all these years? Had I not witnessed the same things he had? How could I fail to understand this fundamental aspect of feline relations after all our observations?

“Well, what is it a matter of then?” I demanded.

“It is a matter of LOVE!” said the Bear with gravitas.

“True love” he added, sotto voce.

Selene Bey is Algerian-English and was born and brought up in England. She is a researcher by trade and a dedicated collector of banal but precious anecdotes. Her work has appeared in the Beirut based literary journal Rusted Radishes and IHRAM (International Human Rights Art Movement) publication and more recently in The Hemlock Journal.

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