This article explains how I became addicted to Turkish Cats and why I chose to acquire Turkish Van…and  why I now have a house full of them

My name was Canavar, Turkish for monster, but I was nicknamed Scruffy. Born a stray, “BinCat”, at the age of approximately 3-5 weeks I was kidnapped by Marianne, the daughter of an English family living in Ankara, Turkey. She threw a towel over me and took me indoors. I tried desperately to escape, but was too frail and weak…..

Once inside I was fed with some warm milk via a dropper, as I could not lap and was then groomed, as I was so bedraggled. I had an horrendous ordeal for the next week. A Turkish vet diagnosed Rickets, an eye infection, plus all the pads on my feet were infected. I had to suffer the indignity of daily injections, cream placed in my eyes and solution painted on my paws. My reward was a clean bill of health.

My family fed me regular meals of fresh meat  STEAK – cat food being unavailable – and it was a luxury to sit on a warm lap or preferably someone’s neck, though I couldn’t understand why no milk was forthcoming when I suckled!

I loved my life as an indoor cat. I used to explore shelves and scratch furniture. My family used to play with me but I always won because my claws were sharper. One of my favourite games was to tease an elderly pedigree cat said to be Persian but having the facial features, coat of a Turk. She was pure white, loved to retrieve. In the beginning she did not like the idea of an interloper and sulked for days. She had delusions of grandeur but my arrival changed that as we became firm friends.

At 6 months I again visited the vet, to be neutered, but, being a bit on the wild side, I escaped before the op. Hiding behind a fridge I hissed, spat and scratched any stranger who came near. Calmly, I strolled out when the time came for collection, only to then face the ordeal. At least I had made my point!

When my family was due to leave Turkey arrangements were made for me to precede them to England and go into quarantine. My favourite rug went as a soother. Soon after arriving in England my family visited bearing gifts –OLIVES – my special treat. Whilst in quarantine I must admit I making a token protest by refusing to groom myself.

My next home was Shaftesbury, Dorset. One of the many benefits of moving to England was having access to a garden and another move to Ilminster, Somerset, convinced me that this was my “Shangri La”.

Once settled in my new home. I spent hours on walkabout marking my territory. I protected my domain from other wandering cats. Being Turkish I had refined the art of growling from the pit of my stomach and it was deafening. Perhaps some ancestor had spent time living with the Anatolian Shepherd dogs!

I lost a couple of lives due to inexperience, such as eating some kind of poison, which made me very ill and a hawthorn pierced my eye, resulting in me having an operation to remove it. I had to tolerate the name button-eye for several weeks as my lid was sewn together with a button to promote healing.

In appreciation of my comfortable life style I brought gifts indoors; shrews, voles and even baby rabbits. I must admit the latter did not go down well with the family.

My family settled in Ilminster and other cats came on the scene, Tabitha from London and Jade from Torquay. I even had to put up with a dog, Jan, an extremely large Rhodesian Ridgeback, but I made sure she knew who was “King of the beasts”!

In later life I redefined my territory, settling for the large garden, in which I spent many idyllic hours dozing. I dreamt of the day I would catch the cuckoo that returned annually to disturb my slumber, as he flew overhead chanting his repetitive call. Wakening to the sound of a knife being sharpened, I knew it was the family calling me in for a meal.

To earn my keep, I appointed myself Supervisor of the garden, strolling around at odd times to check the soil was being turned properly, weeds removed, plants positioned correctly and, more importantly, the workers were not slacking.

In old age, I developed arthritis and had the occasional fits, but this did not stop me enjoying life. I felt happier indoors, with the occasional turn around the garden. I became very vocal and liked my family to be aware of my presence. If they sat down it was at their peril; I was there, and would climb up and settle on a lap and expect the person selected to remain seated, until I chose to leave.

Having enjoyed Scruffy’s company made me want to obtain another Turkish cat, hence my introduction to Turkish Vans.

I decided to help preserve this unique breed and have 2 white Turks, and 8 Auburn/WhiteTurks some of whom I breed from.  

by Marianne Upham - Yenicizgi

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