Kolio

At the Lucy Irvine Foundation Europe (LIFE) we're accustomed to ups and downs; after all we work at the sharp end of animal rescue so we're bound to win some and lose some. The past fortnight, however, has been unusually packed with highs and lows. 

The lowest point for me was the mystery of eyeless cat Kolio's disappearance. It happened  the same day we had a major success - sending four rehabilitated rescued horses out at on a  mini-trek, ridden by local helper,  Daniel, and volunteers. Those heaven-sent volunteers also ran errands for LIFE, fetching meds for sick cats from town, mending gates, giving attention to dogs who never get enough.  They also left us with  masses of second-hand towels and enough dog bowls to hand out during Outreach work for months to come - ultimately practical gifts. I'd dreamed of being able to put my hand on a towel for kittens or puppies whenever needed; now I can. Above all, I'm grateful for the time those people gave selflessly to help us out. 

The ride out, led by Rowena Auld on Arap, with Sarah Watson on Barcelona, Daniel on Amber and Elizabeth Farey on Boshko, was the culmination of years of effort put into those horses, years of gentle patience easing them over violence and neglect in previous lives. As I walked out to meet them on their return, joy and pride bubbled up in me to emerge in an unstoppable smile. I may be feeble now, no longer even capable of driving a cart due to ill health, but I believe I did something good when I rescued these horses and instigated the turning around of their lives.

They say pride comes before a fall. Eyeless cats Kolio and Yanita have shared my life since they were small,  sleeping  every night for years in my arms.  Inevitably, they've become closer companions than some of the rescued cats living outside. In short, I've come to love them. Plus, despite their big personalities, in their total blindness they remain helpless dependents. I am their mother.

So, when I finally headed for bed, tired but happy, the day of the ride and Kolio was not at his usual place at the caravan window, I was brought up short. He must be inside, I told myself, having a kip or waiting for me to put down food. But he wasn't and Yanita, padding in circles, wasn't herself. Something had happened to Kolio. When I rang our local helpers to ask if by chance they'd spotted him they said he must have been taken by a hawk.

My mind went into freefall over the image of Kolio plucked up by huge scaly talons. I know about hawks. My sons kept a buzzard on the Scottish island we lived on. Attila the Honey was his name. He'd fly over a lovely bay in front of our cottage, wheeling back to land on an out stretched arm about the same thickness as  Kolio's neck. I've seen hawks take lambs here. I imagined the struggle, Kolio's desperately questing blind face; the hawk's relentless grip as he flew away; then Kolio's tender furry tummy pierced and his entrails ripped out.

I searched, calling, until it was dark and my voice was hoarse. Then I got up in the night and searched again.  Maybe the hawk had dropped him. He's quite a weight and he'd have resisted with every ounce of his strength. But there was no answer to my calls,  no sign of him and it was the same again all day the next day and the next night. I reached the stage where I so wanted a trace of him I'd have rather have found a body than go on not knowing what had happened. Endlessly, I visualised him lying maimed in the hot sun in an agony of thirst. 

On the third morning of his disappearance, Ilia, our Roma helper, reported seeing a big, mostly white cat blundering about in woodland about fifteen minutes walk away. I went there at once but only Snooky, another LIFE cat, was lying in the shade there. A number of our rescued cats lead fairly wild lives, hunting and sleeping in the woods around our base, occasionally dropping in for meals, but I couldn't imagine an eyeless cat coping like that for long. There are too many hazards: among them the shepherd's pack of  dogs and men with guns who shoot cats for fun.

I carried on with routine tasks at LIFE, cleaning and feeding, though with no joy in my step. I'd failed to keep Kolio safe. Something bad had happened to him. Yanita crept into my arms at night, pining for him in her own way. It was a miserable few days.

Then Suze, another valued volunteer, came to take dogs and cats for spay ops. She offered to help look for Kolio and we set off with a towel, treats and a cat carrier after the day's work ended. Daniel stayed back at LIFE to hold the fort. 

The wooded area where Ilia thought he spotted a cat fitting Kolio's description is extremely steep in parts. Suze and I had to cling onto branches to make the descent into a gully where a stream clogged with rubbish trickled. At least he'd have water to drink, if he'd been holding out here. I called and called and at some point, sweating, swearing, stumbling and with my wrinkled old arms scratched by thorns, my mood changed from the edge of doom and gloom to flinty resolve. I could have used a machete on the branches impeding me at that point. I was almost back into desert island determined mode.  Ilia couldn't make up what he'd told me. He'd described the way Kolio moved. Kolio was here somewhere and I was going to find him.

As we emerged the other side of the steep gully,  Suze and I separated to search in different directions. I took the towel,  she took the cat carrier.  The skies were darkening by then. The humid day was going to end in a storm. Hope wobbled again as I negotiated a sheep track too exposed for a frightened cat to be found on, but I pressed on. And when I turned a corner around a copse, suddenly there was that beloved furry face, the slits where eyes should be questing in my direction..

It should have been a moment of triumph and relief but less than fifty metres away a familiar flock of sheep was coming towards us at some speed, flanked by dogs who barked when they spotted us. Kolio was winding himself around my legs. Cursing my dithering old lady hands and I pressed the button on my phone which raised Suze, asking her to come quickly with the cat basket. Kolio was feeling the vibration through the ground of the herd coming closer now. He wanted to run into the woods. The dogs were ahead of the herd,  the shepherd behind it. I yelled for him to slow down, call off the dogs, holding Kolio close. He was starting to wriggle as Suze appeared, running, with the cat carrier. 

"Open it! " I almost screamed and she held it vertical as I shoved Kolio's by now strongly resisting body in head first. Cat scratches were added to the cuts I'd sustained in the woods. I didn't care. Kolio was safe now and we were going home. 

Seconds after the flock past us, thunder heralded the expected storm. We crossed open ground, the fastest way to reach LIFE's back gate, and we'd have made it before the rain came if that gate hadn't been locked. But it was and the key wasn't with me. As is normal, Ilia had locked it when he left after work.  By now rain was pelting down. Soaked, Suze and I searched the back fence for a means of entry and Daniel, the other side, dashed about with a chair trying to find somewhere stable to set it down to help us climb over. But there was nowhere safe,  the barbed wire fixed at the top of the fence to put off burglars now a hazard to us. Finally I asked Daniel to scale the fence from the inside. I knew he could and sure enough within seconds he was over  and helping me break through rough fencing on our neighbour's side. Beyond that was neglected land choked with undergrowth. Oh for a machete again. But there was Daniel instead, breaking and holding down branches to make a path. I gave him the cat carrier to get Kolio to my caravan fast. I never cry but I nearly did then, with relief. 

Catch up with more events at LIFE here and if you're interested in adopting a dog look no further than here. And we'd be so grateful if you'd consider donating towards our work..

Thanks for reading, 

Lucy