The Turk has disclosed his deeply guarded secret. It seems he is a bit of an old softie at heart. As you know since my mother in law’s passing our family has taken over feeding the Village Kedi’s. This has been generally successful ie My Hurley Dog has only chased the cats a few times, the Turk always buys extra cat biscuits (when they are on sale) and Daughter is happy that the cats have not been discarded by the family.
Let me introduce you to Stanley. Named by Daughter Stanley is a personable little beggar. Has a very distinct meow you can hear two towns over and loves nothing more than to sit on your lap (or your shoulder). I would often open my front door to find Stanley sitting patiently by the door in the hope of a feed or a pet and he would often walk around the block with My Hurley Dog and I (at a reasonable distance as My Hurley Dog would sometimes give chase).
When Daughter and I returned from Istanbul she did her usual head count of the Village Kedi’s and Stanley was missing. “He’s probably just out in the garden somewhere,” was my suggestion. Another couple of days passed and Stanley was still nowhere to be found, “Dead,” I whispered to The Turk out of Daughter’s earshot. He would shrug and change the subject, after all he is not a fan of the Village Kedi’s.
Last Saturday night we were having a BBQ at my father in law’s house. Suddenly Daughter screamed from the street out front. I ran out to find her bent over what appeared to be a dead cat, “Mum, it’s Stanley. Look at his tail!”
I looked. Gangrene. Yikes. Poor buggar was probably hit by a car. Probably about a week ago. Frankly it was a miracle that it lasted this long. I chased all the children away and ran to get a cage but by the time I returned Stanley had disappeared. Daughter was distraught but The Turk and I got her off to bed and went back outside to search for him to no avail.
On Tuesday night I was taking My Hurley Dog for a walk when he started going crazy at an abandoned shop. I stopped and stared at the door (must have looked like quite the goose). I put my ear closer and could hear that distinct little meow albeit quite weak meow that belonged to Stanley. I ran back home and grabbed the cage and The Turk. He broke into the shop (“it’s ok it belongs to my cousin” was his reply when I questioned his breaking and entering) and searching through the darkness he finally found Stanley cowering in the corner.
With some BBQ chicken and a miracle Stanley came over to The Turk (still walking = good sign) and we got him into a cage. Wednesday morning The Turk took Stanley to the vet and stayed with him most of the day (because he did not want him to be alone). Stanley was operated on and unfortunately the gangrene was pretty bad. He lost his tail but the vet was positive with the outcome of the operation. Stanley should recover from this ordeal a little wiser (keep away from cars) and a little lighter (well he has lost his tail).
The Turk brought Stanley home last night and we moved the walking wounded in the empty apartment downstairs along with My Hurley Dog’s bed, more BBQ chicken, water and milk. The Turk sat with him for a while “just to make sure he is alright”.
When I woke this morning The Turk was not beside me. I got up and, on a hunch, scooted downstairs. Low and behold there he was on the floor with Stanley asleep beside him. Yep it seems The Turk is a bit of a softie despite his gruffness to most of the world. He had better watch out. People are going to think he is nice or something.
Poor Stanley 😦 What a heart-warming tale though, imagining you guys luring him out of that shop with BBQ chicken made me smile. As did that last line!! A speedy recovery to that brave little thing!
Oh, poor puss. You were so lucky to find him. Glad all is well now.
Our men do surprise us. I found Hubby asleep on the floor with our previous dog because he was worried about him. And as for the one we have now? Blankets, hot water bottle, the works at the slightest shiver! Love ’em.
Adorable story! And it’s so great that your family made the effort of caring for an abandoned pet. My boyfriend resisted getting a pet as well, but now he insists on tucking the dog into bed every night!
When The Turk first arrived in Sydney he gave me an ultimatum – him or the cat! He lost . . . and look at him now!
This is a lovely story. BC (the cat with the wool on my blog) just turned up at our farmhouse one February night. We already had 6 cats. My husband did a lot of harrumphing about not taking on any more cats. Outcome? Husband and BC curled up by Aga in armchair next morning. Cats have their own ways. These ways are mysterious but effective.
What would we do without them?
My heart is in a little puddle somewhere around my ballet pumps right now. Aw! What a sweetie. I recently saw the softer side of E when it comes to cats – he usually disdains the species, saying they’re ugly and smell and wake us up at night (only the latter point being true). But when a scruffy little tortoiseshell cat showed up on our doorstep the other day, visibly unwell and highly pathetic, HE was the one running for the tuna while I ummed and ahed in case we encouraged her to come back. Needless to say, several weeks later and I’m back in Beirut, getting daily update snaps of Gypsy’s progress (his name). Well I never.
They are all the same these Turkish men. All softies.
Heartwarming story, with a great ending. And a glimpse into your husband’s heart. I know that makes you and Daughter happy. 🙂
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