Perhaps the thinking behind the name ‘Daisy’ was an attempt at calming her, turning her onto the straight and narrow, giving her a brand new identity and a clean slate. But, alas, as they say, you can take the cat out of the city but not the city out of the cat.
There was a wild city cat, which hung around in the back lanes of the city centre. This type of urban cat is almost another breed. Hardly to be described as domestic and closer to the wild cats of the jungle. The type of cat that is rarely seen, relying on instinct, always on the move, lurks in the shadows, eats out of bins. You know the sort. She gave birth to half a dozen kittens and five were caught immediately, taken to the Cats Home where they would be hand picked, chosen by children, leaving, cutest first, to be fed, given balls of string to chase, and loved forever and ever and ever. Their fate was sealed.
But Daisy’s was different. Daisy was a little more difficult to catch. It took a whole two weeks before this streetwise and suspicious cat was lured into the warmth of the shop by the promise of ham. From the first contact between cat and human, the relationship these two species shared proved to be a difficult one.
Affection was not this cat strong point. She had been separated from her mother and all of her siblings. She was a loner and was left to look out for herself. She had to learn quickly and therefore, like her mother before her, had developed a certain hardness in order to survive. She didn’t need anyone else. This made her a very difficult family pet. There was none of your usual cosy curled up cat on the lap. She didn’t sleep at the bottom of the bed at night. Shit, she barely even responded to her own name being called.
There was this one time, a friend of the family, who was a police dog handler, came round. He issued a warning saying that the cat should be put outside or locked in another room. Reluctantly Daisy was put outside, where she paced back and forth, back and forth near the back door. Somehow she slipped inside, perhaps through an open window, and proceeded to scare the shit out of the German Shepard, hissing and spitting, turning him into a quivering scared mess. It made for an uncomfortable half hour, and eventually the dog, now left questioning his effectiveness as a formidable canine, left with his owner, never to return.
Dozens of neighbourhood cats were fought. Fights won: 25, wins by K.O: 25.
Daisy was once asleep in the garden, enjoying some late afternoon midsummer sun when a wasp began to bother her. Without even getting to her feet she patiently waited for the buzzing insect to come near enough to her mouth for her to swiftly open up and swallow it. The wasp did put up a fight, and somewhere between her mouth and stomach, Daisy was stung by the desperate creature. Just another day for hardy Daisy.
In an unfair end to her life, similar to that of John Travolta’s unjust demise in Pulp Fiction, Daisy was killed by a reversing car. Another lazy day of sunbaking on the warm bricked drive was ended prematurely by the back wheel of a Nissan Micra. Even tough old Daisy was not immune and died immediately.
This is the story of Daisy. It doesn't need dressing up and there is no moral to this tale. It's simply an account of a badass cat.
