We were all prepared to celebrate Target’s 17th Gotcha Day this month, but we made a mistake. Target will be 19!
As I sat down last week with a gift I’d bought for us to share, I remembered that Target had boarded a plane to Britain at 16. That was three years ago. I had accidentally de-aged him by two years.
With his huge green eyes and immaculate fur, Target looks youthful. He is a little rickety when he walks, but on the inside, he is still our kitten.
Target captured our hearts the moment he set paws in our home. When we look through our albums, he appears in more memories than all the humans combined.
In early photos, he is hand-sized, playing with grass and toying with string. His best toy ever was a feather duster. I bought it in SS15, Subang Jaya, in a hardware store that was packed from floor to ceiling with spanners, wire, nuts, bolts – and a duster made from real chicken feathers.
Kitten Target adored it. He hugged it, bunny kicked it, ripped at it – we had feathers all over the house for weeks.
Our orange was not an only cat: he was brought up by Au, our senior cat. Au was incredibly kind to the kitten. He let Target steal his treats, and allowed the kitten to shadow him.
Under Au’s supervision, Target climbed the stairs and nipped out the window onto the roof. Our neighbours had no cats at that time, so our furries owned that space.
They chased birds, squirrels and meowed down to the street at their particular friends. Every morning and every evening, our neighbours, Umi, Lilian and Kim would stop and wave at them, calling up greetings and exchanging compliments.
Taught to be a fighter
Au also taught Target to hunt and fight. They battled on the sofa, raced up and down the stairs and ripped cardboard boxes and newspapers to shreds in spectacular mock hunts.
When we weren’t picking up feathers, we were picking up confetti.
In those days we lived in a dead end road and our neighbours were all animal lovers. Under Au’s supervision, Target went outside and met the neighbourhood cats.
Just like kids at playschool, it was hit and miss. Target loved Snow who lived down the street but was frenemy with Charlie, who lived across from us.
Luckily, when the big grey cat down the road tried to bully the new kitten, Au barrelled out and fixed it. He was an amazing boy, and a wonderful big brother.
In later years, Target was equally kind to junior cats. Both Tic Tac and Inkie who live with us today were brought up by our orange.
Target was 12 when Tic Tac joined us. He took the kitten under his wing, let her steal his food and taught her to fight.
Now Target is a sweetheart, but when he battles, he’s all in. In Scotland, we’d call him a bampot: a chaotic, usually drunk, torrent of aggression.
Today, Tic Tac looks as if butter wouldn’t melt but she could give John Wick a run for his money. She plays nicely but when Inkie tries to take advantage of his superior weight, our princess body-slams him, before nipping his back paw in a way that has him squealing.
The move is classic Au but mad red light in her eyes and the way her ears flatten is pure Target. Inkie is sensible; when Tic Tac loses it, he rolls over and surrenders.
In the past, Tic Tac would kiss Target, licking his face and ears nicely, and then bite him before launching into happy battle.
Lovely bond
These days he gets the kisses and a little loving headbutt. Our girl knows he’s old and she’s gentle with him.
Young Inkie is cheeky; he tries to steal food and sometimes nips at Target’s paws. In the old days, Target would have creamed him. Today, he’s more likely to move over.
Inkie knows it’s disrespectful and now that we’re supervising all meals, he’s been very good. At heart, Inkie adores Target.
The two boys bonded closely when we moved to Britain. We arrived in November, a cold month, so they napped in the cupboard, curled up inside the electric blanket that now lies on their sofa.
Inkie still investigates the cupboard, his nose bothers him, but the two boys now nap in my bed. Target hogs the pillow and Inkie lies a bit further down so he can watch the birds in the tree.
The sun hits my office in the afternoons and as Target is still senior executive snoopervisor, he visits, curling up in his purple plushie bed and enjoying the sun puddle.
At the end of the workday, we go downstairs for sofa tuna. Target watches the junior cats wrestle and play wild games after. He sometimes bats a bit of paper but mostly he enjoys having a ringside seat.
But as 19 is about 90 in human terms, Target goes to bed early. He makes his way upstairs around 8pm, and insists I’m in bed by 9.30pm. If I am late, his imperious meow rings around the house. He sleeps in the crook of my arm and shares my pillow.
Last February when the winter hit worst, I noticed Target’s ears were sometimes cold.
And that’s where our present comes in.
Last week when the first few cold days of autumn blew in, I bought us an electric blanket.
He loves it, and I’m hooked too. We cuddle under the covers, paws, ears, and human toes deliciously toasty. It’s our personal time, just the two of us.
We read and cuddle. Target purrs the entire time, pausing only to present an ear or shoulder for me to stroke in between turning pages of my book.
It’s been 19 years of furry, purry love and we hope to enjoy many more.
