The Cats of the Falkland Islands

 

Letters from the Falkland Islands

 

 

It’s chucking in down. I’ve just watched a white van reverse into a kerb. That’s about everything that has happened in the last ten minutes, that and the sound of Doug playing the guitar in the room downstairs. It hasn’t been like this all day; the morning was largely dry and sunny. I managed another 5km on the 30-meter grass ‘track’. I caught a second glimpse of the elusive black cat. I first saw it a few days ago; it made a dart across the sheep pen during a previous sunny run about. This particular cat has been officially listed as missing by the Falkland Islands Government for the past two and a half years. Even though there have been many sightings of this cat, they have all been but fleeting and no one has been able to catch a hold of it. By all but some, it now passes unnoticed; a long time has passed since the missing cat poster campaign. People have just come to assume, and come to accept that it doesn’t want to be caught. Some creatures are happiest going from place to place, after all. They live, never too sure where the next meal may come from. I doubt that is a serious concern for the cats of Stanley, though. There are enough cats around town to know where they might scrounge a meal from. I have observed no less than 10 different cats darting out of bushes, and crossing the steep street I can see clearly from this hotel window. I’m assuming that cat flaps are a thing in Stanley, but never having actually seen one here I can’t say for sure. Anyway, I suppose the owner of this cat still hopes and longs for its return one day. You’d definitely be inclined to think so, given that this cat is still listed as missing. However, this ‘status’ may not be the clear indication that you might imagine. You see, the Falklands Government would rather that cats and dogs be listed as missing rather than been classified as strays. Probably something to do with the reputation of the country and how that relates to the tourism industry. Anyhow, all this made me think, wouldn’t it be nice to have a quarantine cat? So, this afternoon, at 15.40, I went outside to the sheep pen armed with a saucer and the dregs of a UHT milk carton. Dutch, once he had learned of my plan kindly informed me that contrary to the commonly held belief, milk isn’t actually all that good for cats on account of its lactose content. I persisted with it unsuccessfully for this half hour, but vowed to try again tomorrow with a bit of bacon or something. Of course, there’s a chance that this will backfire spectacularly - if a flock of Turkey Vultures descends, for example.