I had better luck with the next offering. An Indian arrived clasping a large straw hat tenderly to his bosom. After a polite exchange of greetings I asked to see what he had so carefully secured in his hat. He held it out, beaming hopefully at me, and then looking into the depths of the hat I saw reclining at the bottom, with a dewy-eyed expression[302] on its face, the most delightful kitten. It was a baby Geoffroy's cat,[303] a small species of wild cat which is getting increasingly rare in South America. Its basic colouring was a pale fawny yellowy and it was dappled all over with neat, dark brown spots. It regarded me with large bluey-green eyes from the interior of the hat, as if pleading to be picked up. I should have known better. In my experience it is always the most innocent-looking creatures that can cause you the worst damage. However, misled by its seraphic[304] expression, I reached out my hand and tried to grasp it by the scruff of the neck. The next moment I had a bad bite through the ball of my thumb and twelve deep red grooves across the back of my hand. As I withdrew my hand, cursing, the kitten resumed its innocent pose, apparently waiting to see what other little game I had in store for it. While I sucked my hand like a half-starved vampire, I bargained with the Indian and eventually purchased my antagonist. Then I tipped it, hissing and snarling like a miniature jaguar, out of the hat and into a box full of straw. There I left it for an hour or so to settle down. I felt that its capture and subsequent transportation in a straw hat might be mainly responsible for its fear and consequent bad temper, for the creature was only about two weeks old, as far as I could judge.
When I thought it had settled down and would be willing to accept my overtures of friendship, I removed the lid of the box and peered in hopefully. I missed losing my left eye by approximately three millimetres. I wiped the blood from my cheek thoughtfully; obviously my latest specimen was not going to be easy. Wrapping my hand in a piece of sacking I placed a saucer of raw egg and minced meat in one corner of the box, and a bowl of milk in the other, and then left the kitten to its own devices.[305] The next morning neither of the offerings of food had been touched. With a premonition that this was going to hurt me more than the kitten, I filled one of my feeding-bottles with warm milk, wrapped my hand in sacking and approached the box.
Now I have had, at one time and another, a fair amount of experience in trying to get frightened, irritated or just plain stupid animals to feed from a bottle, and I thought that I knew most of the tricks. The Geoffroy's kitten proceeded to show me that, as far as it was concerned, I was a mere tyro[306] at the game. It was so lithe, quick and strong for its size that after half an hour of struggling I felt as though I had been trying to pick up a drop of quicksilver with a couple of crowbars. I was covered in milk and blood and thoroughly exhausted, whereas the kitten regarded me with blazing eyes and seemed quite ready to continue the fight for the next three days if necessary. The thing that really irritated me was that the kitten had – as I knew to my cost – very well-developed teeth, and there seemed no reason why it should not eat and drink of its own accord, but, in this stubborn mood, I knew that it was capable of quite literally starving itself to death. A bottle seemed the only way of getting any nourishment down it. I put it back in its box, washed my wounds, and was just applying plaster to the deeper of them when Luna arrived, singing cheerfully.
"Good morning, Gerry," he said, and then stopped short and examined my bloodstained condition. His eyes widened, for I was still bleeding profusely from a number of minor scratches.
"What's this?" he asked.
"A cat… gato. "[307] I said irritably.
"Puma… jaguar?" he asked hopefully.
"No," I said reluctantly, "chico gato montes."[308]
"Chico gato montes" he repeated incredulously, "do this?"
"Yes. The bloody little fool won't eat. I tried it on the bottle, but it's just like a damned tiger. What it really needs is an example…" my voice died away as an idea struck me. "Come on, Luna, we'll go and see Edna."
"Why Edna?" inquired Luna breathlessly as he followed me down the road to Helmuth's flat.
"She can help," I said.
"But Gerry, Helmuth won't like it if Edna is bitten by a gato montes" Luna pointed out in Spanish.
"She won't get bitten," I explained. "I just want her to give me a kitten."
Luna gazed at me with dark, puzzled eyes, but the conundrum[309] was too much for him, and so he merely shrugged and followed me round to Helmuth's front door. I clapped my hands and went into Helmuth's and Edna's comfortable sitting-room, where Edna was ensconced over a huge pile of socks, darning placidly and listening to the gramophone.
"Hello," she said, giving us her wide, attractive smile, "the gin is over there, help yourself."
Edna had a beautiful and placid nature: nothing seemed to worry her unduly. I am sure that if you walked into her sitting room with fourteen Martians in tow[310] she would merely smile and point out the location of the gin.
"Thank you, dear," I said, "but I didn't come for gin, strange though it may sound."
"It does sound strange," agreed Edna, grinning at me mischievously. "Well, if you don't want gin, what do you want?"
"A kitten."
"A kitten?"
"Yes… you know, a small cat."
"Today Gerry is loco"[311] said Luna with conviction, pouring out two liberal measures of gin and handing one to me.
"I have just bought a baby gato montes" I explained to Edna. "It's extremely wild. It won't eat by itself, and this is what it did to me when I tried to feed it on the bottle." I displayed my wounds. Edna's eyes widened.
"But how big is this animal?" she asked.
"About the size of a two-week-old domestic cat."
Edna looked stern. She folded up the sock she was darning.
"Have you put disinfectant on those cuts?" she inquired, obviously preparing herself for a medical orgy.
"Never mind the cuts… I washed them… But what I want from you is a kitten, an ordinary kitten. Didn't you say the other day that you were infested with kittens over here?"
"Yes," said Edna, "we have plenty of kittens."
"Good. Well, can I have one?" Edna considered.
"If I give you a kitten will you let me disinfect your cuts?" she asked cunningly. I sighed.
"All right, blackmailer," I said.
So Edna disappeared into the kitchen quarters, from whence came a lot of shrill exclamations and much giggling. Then Edna returned with a bowl of hot water and proceeded to minister unto my cuts and bites, while a procession of semi-hysterical Indian maids filed into the room, carrying in their arms groups of kittens of all shapes and colours, from ones still blind to ones that were half grown and looked almost as wild as my Geoffrey's cat. Eventually I chose a fat, placid female tabby[312] which was approximately the same size and age as my wild cat, and carried it back in triumph to the garage. Here I spent an hour constructing a rough cage, while the tabby kitten purred vigorously and rubbed itself round my legs, occasionally tripping me up. When the cage was ready I put the tabby kitten in first, and left it for an hour or so to settle down.
302
a dewy-eyed expression – a very innocent and gentle one
303
Geoffroy's cat – a variety of wild cat discovered by Estienne-Louis Geoffroy (1725–1810), a famous French zoologist
310
with fourteen Martians in tow – followed by fourteen imaginary inhabitants of the planet Mars
312
tabby – the common type of domestic cat, grey with dark stripes (the name is usually applied to a female cat)