The ‘boys’: our feline family

It’s been a genuine joy to watch our former metropolitan cat, Perry, flourish in our new rural home. Along with many other questions we had when relocating our own lives to Piedmont six years ago, how our senior English chap would adapt when we made the move to Italy was one of them, as he’s a unique soul and a big part of our lives. We needn’t have worried, however. Not only did he deal brilliantly with the slog down from London to Piedmont via Liguria in my beaten-up old VW Golf (confined to a large dog cage on the back seat with no accidents and best behaviour – just the odd wail…), he has taken to our new life here with real vigour. He loves running up and down the hills, chasing lizards, climbing trees and of course, relaxing under the shade of a tree when it’s hot and sunny. He even regularly comes on long walks with Steve and I around the hills, stopping occasionally for a short rest before running to catch us up.  As he’s now a grand old man of sixteen we do keep an eye on him, especially to make sure he’s drinking plenty of water during the summer, but aside from that, he is a different creature in his new Italian life and has found a new joie de vie. There were a lot of aggressive cats around us back in Twickenham, so he loves the lack of feline competition here and with the hillside all to ourselves, he can enjoy the space and freedom to explore and run around doing catty things, as cats do.

Then came Pippi.

There was one ‘minor’ disruption to Perry’s perfect life, when we adopted a tiny kitten that we spotted on our land in the autumn of 2017. This quirky, squeaky scrap of a cat marched up to our kitchen door one morning and demanded our attention. We weren’t looking to have another cat, but we just couldn’t bear to see him struggle to survive as the harsh cold of winter took hold. So, we adopted him and christened him Pipistrello or “little bat”, named after his near perfect bat mask of black that covers his eyes - “Pippi” for short. We hoped that being so tiny and young, our old boy Perry would have no issues welcoming him into the family. Oh, how we were wrong!  

Three months of regular fighting ensued with the two of them vying for number one cat spot and Perry thoroughly confused and angry at the introduction of this newbie who apparently wanted to play so much. It got so bad we considered exploring if anyone could adopt Pippi, as we were worried that we were putting our aging cat through unnecessary stress. However, almost as suddenly as the animosity began, it dissipated, and a truce was reached. Sure, the two of them still play fight, and sometimes a little too roughly and enough to elicit yelps of pain from time to time, but ‘the boys’ have become firm frenemies and take every opportunity to hang out together, often double-teaming if a random cat crosses onto the hillside. In the winter, despite the whole house at their disposal, they regularly snuggle up together, squashed yin and yang-like into a single basket only really big enough for one of them.

Pippi is now as much a fixture and part of our life here as Perry, enjoying our Italian hillside in his own way as much as us. As the older boy, Perry’s circle of patrol is a little smaller now, but Pippi’s youth means he still roams much further afield, including regular jaunts to Villa Menaluna, often covering the entire garden in his own security sweep on our behalf.

When you’re staying at Villa Menaluna, you may well see either of our boys doing their thing. Perry is very affectionate and will make friends with everyone, whereas Pippi has never lost his wild cat wariness and so is less trusting of new faces. Neither will likely bother you during your stay, but it’s probably worth checking the house before you go out for the day!

So, along with the deer, boar, badgers, martens, owls, red squirrels, kites, mice, voles, lizards and salamanders, keep your eyes open for two rather chunky but loveable black and white cats – and don’t feed them or they’ll never leave you alone.