Emer McLysaght: Have I somehow stolen another person’s pet without realising it?

At some stage during the pandemic, I realised my cat Pip was cheating on me.

I live on the ground floor of an apartment block, and have a patio that is chronically overlooked by at least 12 neighbours, designed to look as grim as possible while offering ample space and opportunity for tenacious weeds to take hold.

I don’t spend a huge amount of time out there, but Pip is a big fan. It’s close enough to the back door or window that she can make a quick escape from the elements (she’s afraid of wind) or vicious wildlife (I’ve personally witnessed her getting bullied by magpies). It’s also a great spot from which she can keep an eye on the comings and goings of a nearby squirrel and the menacing birds.

During the pandemic, I was out on the patio hanging out a few clothes (don’t tell the management company and their inexplicable rules regarding clotheslines) when I heard Pip emitting one of her trademark “I am here now, please cater to me” miaows. But she was nowhere to be seen.

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It was then, with a slight tilt of my head into my neighbour’s patio that I saw Pip, exiting their back door like she owned the place. The lovely woman who lives there followed her out, and I was instantly mortified. “Oh, I hope she hasn’t been annoying you!” I yelped, worried that she may have destroyed a beloved family heirloom with her devastating claws, but the woman assured me that Pip was “always” lovely and friendly.

Carl has wormed his way into the house several evenings a week, and has graduated to the couch while Pip fumes from her heated throne

This wasn’t the first time Pip had strayed into someone else’s home, putting on a show like she was the most neglected cat in Dublin rather than an animal who sleeps on an electric cat blanket and will only eat two very specific brands of food. I’d had phone calls from other neighbours who found her in their homes and called the number on her collar, thinking she was lost. She has multiple instructions attached to her collar for this very reason, to make it clear that she is a pet and not to feed her, but if she appears lost, please call.

I’ve had too many cats go missing over the years to endure the wondering regarding what might have become of her. Pip has hung around for nine years now, so I’m hopeful that the lure of another’s couch cushions won’t be strong enough. I’m one to talk, though, because recently my own couch cushions have proven irresistible to an animal I’m convinced is someone else’s pet.

I’ve been calling him Carl. I’m fairly sure he’s male, and the first time he came in the window I was watching something on TV featuring a Carl, so here we are. Things escalated quickly from him doing a lot of skulking around outside, on the patio and beyond, to me leaving out a bit of food because I was worried he was hungry. Next thing, he was in the window, chowing down on Pip’s precious chunks in gravy while she looked on, clutching her pearls. I shooed him out, only to find him later curled up on a jumper in my bedroom.

Since then, he has wormed his way into the house several evenings a week, and has graduated to the couch while Pip fumes from her heated throne. She’s fired off a few half-hearted hisses too, and I’m loath to drive her back into the arms of next door. However, no matter how many times I hoof Carl off a cushion or out the door, he cries in the most pitiful way, and I relent.

He belongs to someone nearby, I’m sure of it. He only appears in the evenings, and is far too friendly and clean to be an alley-dweller. He wears no collar and, while he might be microchipped, wrestling him down to the vet would be a last resort for me. I’ve tried putting enough cats into carriers to know that never the twain shall meet. Carl could try to claw my eyes right out, and me only trying to help him.

I want to get to the bottom of it, mostly so I can feel less guilty if I choose to ignore his wailing at the back door, but also to put a halt to the nagging feeling that I’m stealing someone else’s beloved pet

Still, I don’t want anyone worrying regarding him, so I’ve put out some calls on social media. One lead so far suggests that his name is in fact Felix and he does indeed belong to a house nearby, but is so friendly that he splits his time between various dwellings. I’m considering a door-to-door campaign to try to verify this information.

I want to get to the bottom of it, mostly so I can feel less guilty if I choose to ignore his wailing at the back door, but also to put a halt to the nagging feeling that I’m stealing someone else’s beloved pet. Besides, I think Pip’s mental health would also benefit from less of Carl/Felix touching her toys and eating her Dreamies.

Does Carl/Felix sound like your cat? Does he live on the South Circular Road near Kilmainham? Please attach a collar and a note, so we can all rest easy.