The Legend and Legacies of Peachy

The lives and loves of cats are far more intriguing and complex than any of those useless soap operas that humans seem to love watching so much. The difference however, is that we tend to keep our intrigues and relationships to ourselves rather than air it for any nasty little species to see.

In my neighbourhood there are a number of cats who by choice or circumstance, lead the life of a wanderer.

Now these characters are laws unto themselves - choosing not to own humans - probably because the maintenance costs are so high and the emotional trauma of training one is also quite taxing.

Anyway a long time ago, before the days of Twinkie and Cocoa and the filthy Monkey and the rat-type creature, there was one such wanderer who suddenly turned up at my door. Peachy was his name - a classic orange tabby with a not-so-classic stubby tail. He sauntered into the house, ate my food and fell asleep. I liked his style.


Peachy: a friend

Naturally we became friends - sharing the gossip of the neighbourhood, discussing the latest techniques in falling asleep while still knowing exactly whats going on around you, and the state of the day's food - you know, usual cat things.

In fact Peachy enjoyed a rare privilege - he was the only other cat who was allowed into the house by my own free will, (the others that came later were forced on me - I had very little choice in the matter).

Now Peachy would choose to come and go as he pleased, but unfortunately, still being a typical male in some respects (i.e. 'not being lead by his brain') he would often be distracted by 'natural urges'. Being very headstrong on the subject of female conquests, Peachy would risk life, limb and oncoming traffic to achieve his goals - and I dare say he fathered many of the cats that still wander the streets today. (Of course he wouldn't dare to try that sort of thing with me - I am a product of the SPCA school of life after all - snip, snip and all of that)

Sadly, Peachy's hormonal drive was to be the end of him. After countless conquests and an unknown number of resulting offspring, Peachy's legendary reign was cut short at the side of the road. My humans brought him home and buried him under the orange tree.



But that is far from the end of the story. For Peachy's genes live on...

Not long after his passing, a scruffy stunted little black kittten turned up outside our air-conditioning duct. Her mother had been seen a few times in the company of Peachy.

My fabulous powers of deduction have lead me to the conclusion that Twinkie indeed is his daughter. A theory she supports completely during 'that time of the month' when all sense of decency goes out of the window and she transforms into a stunted little seductress.

Although Twinkie may lack much of her father's intellectual capability, she more than makes up for it in another of his 'tendencies'.

Peachy would be proud I'm sure... although this kind of behaviour is certainly not my cup of milk.

Ah yes, but do remember I said that Peachy was prolific, so my story is not yet done.

Last year another visitor turned up on my doorstep. Orange tabby, stumpy tail, adorable manners (eating and falling asleep). Unimaginatively called, erm... 'Orange', this male bore a striking similarity to Peachy.


Orange: keeping it in the family

Orange is about the same age as Twinkie, he comes and goes as he pleases, but he's also been through the SPCA school of life, so he lacks those 'tendencies'. It is by no great leap of the imagination therefore, to believe that Orange is another descendant of that casanova of cats.

Because of his disinterest in the pursuit of females, Orange's great love is food. It keeps him safe and off the streets, so one mustn't complain if he destroys the contents of my food bowl from time to time. The added incentive of having Orange coming around from time to time is that his presence causes incredible anguish for that filthy Monkey, often causing him to run headlong into heavy objects and hide under chairs - a real treat for me...

Orange never outstays his welcome, is polite to the females of the household, is tolerant with the canines, and knows how to use a litter tray. A perfect gentleman.

So in many ways, Peachy is still with us.

(Orange is off again as I speak. He says that the humans at No.57 are serving fish today, so he mustn't be late - between you and me, I'm not sure that he's actually invited...)


"Time to make a move"


"Got a dinner appointment"


"Now where's No.57 again?"