M is for Malcolm
A gorgeous stray, but a stray nonetheless.
He had been hanging around in our back garden for the longest time.
I find it hard to work out when a cat lives somewhere and when it’s simply doing the rounds.
I take it from the fact that Malcolm now sleeps in our house most of the time, eats our food and doesn’t seem to cause much fuss that we now figure in his life as “home”.
In the beginning, he was timid. He would watch people approach across the back garden and then run away at the last moment. When faced with another cat, he’d cause trouble like an upstart male; but, up against a human, he didn’t seem to fancy his chances.
With his testicles intact, he also spent a lot of that early period spraying the garden. Once he migrated inside the house, he continued to spray – which really didn’t work for us. He has improved, though he still sprays occasionally. I think it might be stress related.
Aside from the gorgeous grey coat, Malcolm also has the strangest eyes. He watches you like you might run at him at any moment. His gaze bobbles around like he’s wondering if you might pounce on him. It’s endearing, along with his somewhat lumpen physique.
Before we took him to the vets, he had the cutest, roundest face – big cheeks come as part of the deal for male cats brimming with testosterone.
And I got to name him. The name comes from the witches in Macbeth, who refer to their familiar as graymalkin – an affectionate name for a gray cat. Well, he’s grey and “malkin” sounds like Malcolm, so… he’s grey Malcolm.