Triton II, near Drepano, is a lovely little campsite opposite a beach, run by an equally lovely lady called Christina. We’d read about it on Barry and Margaret’s website (magbaztravels.com), and they’ve been everywhere, so that made it easy. Here’s the beach – looks nice, right? Peaceful? Tranquil? Deserted?
Well the beach was, but the campsite …
At first we were completely disarmed when two sweet little tabby kittens turned up and purred at us, gently rubbed our legs, and were no trouble at all. They’d sit happily on our laps, and meander along with us when we walked on the beach. We felt their little ribs when we stroked them and bought more cat food. We called them Sausage and Spot, and liked having them around.
And so it started.
After a few days of the tabbies, the fluffy gingers turned up. Thing 1 and Thing 2 began to camp on our doorstep. And several specimens (that after three months still each only had the name ‘Ugly Cat’) began to settle underneath the van. By now, leaving the door open with the fly-screen closed was not an option. Sausage had discovered she could climb up the screen and yank open the handle cover to climb in. Thing 1 thought this was brilliant, and all the others began to follow suit.
Still, not a massive problem, and so we started to put down our roots at Triton. We met travellers Bob and Lynne (who also fed Sausage and Spot), and Janine and Arno, who lived there permanently now, and had adopted three of the cats as their own (Charlie, Fritz, and Fritz’s sister).
Janine gave us the lowdown on the surrounding area – where to go for good, reasonably priced meals, where to shop, where the hardware stores were, the local sights etc. Really kind lady, makes beautiful jewellery (Esfera jewelry on Etsy). So when she asked us if we could feed her three cats, as she and Arno had to go to back to Holland for a fortnight, well of course we could.
And this is where the cats really played us.
They would follow us every morning and evening as we went to feed Fritz and co., and try and muscle in. Persistent little buggers they were too. Janine had left a broom there but it wasn’t enough to keep them at bay once word had got around. No, the only thing that worked was Steve enticing them all to one end of the site by rattling the dried food and feeding them there, while I sneaked off to give Janine’s crew their meal.
Initially, there were the tabbies, the Things, and the Ugly Cats. Then came a gorgeous, fluffy tortoiseshell with a bulbous tummy (that I wrongly assumed to be carrying kittens) that I called Mama Bear. She was a sweetie, so we fed her.
Bob and Lynne left and we think they probably took Spot and Sausage with them, because we never saw them again. Good for them. But the gap had been quickly filled by some ginger and white jobbies, and one in particular was friendly and fairly devoted to Steve. We’d just watched the finals of Professional Masterchef and had been very impressed by one of the contestant’s tenacity: Louisa was a very young girl, with a great personality, who worked incredibly hard, and never allowed herself to be knocked off her goal of professional excellence.
Steve called his new follower Louisa-from-masterchef, because of her affectionate nature, combined with an extraordinary determination when it came to food. No other cat got a look in when she was around.
Then we met Velcro. This little tabby could lift the skin from your bones and the carpet from your floor when you tried to pick him up to put him out. His ability to hold on was just extraordinary. His masterstroke was he made you give up trying to chuck him out because you prized your ‘surfaces’ too much. He quickly became Steve’s favourite. He’d follow Steve when he went to the loo and then shimmy under the door to be next to him.
There was also a cross-eyed ginger we called Clarence (you have to be old to get that one), and one that sang all the time she ate – she became Geri or Ginger Spice. Tricolour was ginger, white and black, and a bit of a cow, and Bruiser was a fat-faced, big-footed bully boy. He’d pick on the other cats, start fights, attack people (he once jumped onto Janine’s head and dug his claws into her scalp) and generally be a nuisance. He was a tabby version of Tom after Jerry has hit him in the face with a frying pan. At feeding time he would lurk.
And now they were all living on our roof. Or under the van, or sleeping on Nibbles soft-top, or our doorstep, or outdoor furniture, or tucked under the slide-out. We’d have to check all our outside lockers before closing them in case a cat had sneaked in when we weren’t looking. At night I’d be woken by the thump of a cat landing on my bedroom roof. They knew what time we fed Janine’s three, and they’d all queue up outside each morning and yell if we overslept.
By the time we’d settled in for Christmas we were regularly feeding sixteen cats twice a day, and Steve had discovered a place to buy cat food in bulk. And even though Janine and Arno were now home, Fritz and co. would still come for ‘seconds’ at our place.
We’d come back from the shopping to see three or four of them curled up on our coiled waste pipes, or occupying pride of place on our fold-up chairs. And then, as soon as they heard the car engine stop, they’d all come running and yelling for food, with others suddenly appearing from out of trees, or under hedges, or God know’s where.
But then Doggo turned up, sometimes bringing his mate, and I thought maybe we’d get a little peace.
Not a chance. He appeared every day for about three weeks, and just sat and watched. I think he was aware that he was vastly out-numbered, and that at least two of those cats were little shits.
By now Thing 1 thought she owned us, which in a Mafia sense, she probably did. She and Thing 2, Louisa, Mama Bear and Velcro would just climb into the van and make themselves comfortable, and honestly, it was easier to just let them be.
Luckily, by the time we left Drepano, the season was beginning to open up again and more people were coming to stay. I saw other people feeding the cats occasionally, and the numbers of regulars under our van had begun to dwindle. The die-hards remained, of course, but by now they were fatter and healthy looking. Thing 1’s eye problem had cleared up after being repeatedly squirted with Optrex by Steve. Thing 2 had got brave enough to be stroked, just not on the head. Mama and Thing 1 would curl up on my lap and just be cats. Velcro and Louisa would still follow Steve to watch him on the loo.
And although I have many happy (and normal) memories of our time in Drepano (about which, more next blog), it is the cats that I’ll always remember it for.
P.s. Steve misses Velcro and I miss Mama Bear.
NEXT TIME – still playing catch-up so I’ll fill you in on Christmas in an RV, and being a beach-comber. Love to all of you, ciao xxx