The Story of Sophie and Sam - The Cats of Glendale Gardens and Woodland

My first visit to Glendale was in 1996. My sister Susan had begun the college program the previous December and brought me out for a tour. It was a wet, grey January day. The only living creature other than Bob Clarke was a cat, a large fur ball of a cat with white feet, very little tail and a very determined walk. It reminded me of a bulldog.

Bob was cutting down the Miscanthus gigantus, the Takata Garden was only just begun and I can imagine that he must have been putting in many hours. The cat seemed to be keeping tabs on the progress. Susan introduced the cat -- I think as Phantom.

When I came to school here in 2001, few things in the garden remained unchanged except that Bob still toiled away in the Takata and the cat, renamed Sophie by then Head Gardener Lee Stempski (then known as Andrea) watched the progress.

I once asked Hoke and others what they knew of Sophie, where she might have come from, but no one knew. She just appeared one day, chased all the other strays away and took up residence. The then caretakers had a cat; the poor thing was chased off by Sophie and was seen outside the fence, trying to slink back in for meals when Sophie wasn't around. When Peter and Judith came to live in the cottage, Soph cadged the odd meal. Judith, not a cat lover, appreciates Sophie. "He's a cool cat," she says. On cold nights Sophie took to sleeping in the potting shed. If you look at the far west end of the glasshouse, you will see the cat door made by Peter. As Hoke has put it, "Acres of voles and people to scratch him, why would any cat leave?"
Anyone walking through the garden seldom went alone, especially in the winter when the gardens were quieter and company scarce. Sophie, more than anyone, was happy to see the new school year begin. Each term there is always a cat lover, someone who will fuss and brush out the yak balls, bring treats, and tickle.

Sophie is as much of this garden as anyone. Mr. Sophie, when we remember that we got that part wrong, sometimes known as Soph, often attended class with the students and if he could communicate it, could probably pass Plant ID, having missed very few of the walkabouts over the years.

He also seems to love having his picture taken and is in lots of wedding pictures, just to the left of the groom. Many a photographer would attest to this, but I myself did doubt it until one day in late November a few years ago. There were many weddings that summer and Bob had been trying to get the Moon Bridge repainted for quite sometime. He had managed to get the old paint off, but not the new paint on so the bridge was covered with a bright orange tarp. A bridal party came in unexpectedly and asked could they take some pictures and could we remove the tarp for what has become the iconic wedding picture in the gardens. Now, I had not seen Soph for weeks, but he appeared out of nowhere as we removed the tarp; ready for his close-up. When I moved into the office from the garden, I discovered another trait. Sophie thinks a keyboard is as good a place as any to sit and I quickly learned to hit "save" the moment I saw him as a mouse of any kind is worth pursuing!

Sometime in 2002 another cat arrived, much smaller than Sophie but with very similar colouring, very little tail and a tendency to the same yak-like fur. Lee called her Samantha. Samantha did not like Sophie and either took off or hissed like mad whenever Sophie ventured too close. Sophie, mellowed with age, usually tossed a look that seemed to say, "Get over it." One exception came the year I worked as Lee's assistant. We were having a quick meeting by her office and up came Sophie with her "dinner." Sam followed with hers, and then came Smokie, a stray, with hers. They ate in peace, but the resulting crunching was a bit much and the bits left were quite revolting. But cats will be cats and they do keep us vole and rabbit free. This was the beginning of a détente of sorts. Sam seemed to adjust to Sophie and, although still skittish, did not flee. On fierce, wet days both could be found curled up on chairs on opposite sides of the Student room.

Sam, unlike Sophie, is perfectly happy to be picked up and will snuggle into your neck, drool down your back and purr like an engine. She will come running anytime food is in the offing and thinks us very ungracious when we refuse her "presents." She makes a very distinct sound when coming with one and we have learned to quickly shut the door. Unhappily many a guest to the garden has been deemed worthy of such attention. What can you do? Cats will be cats.

Up until a few months ago no one knew where the cats had come from or, more to the point, where they went when they were not here. Sam, in particular, usually disappeared for the winter, leaving in November. To see Sam trotting back through the rotunda was as much a sign of spring as the return of the swallows.

One day Peter struck up a conversation with one of our neighbours, a man named Ted. From Ted came the missing pieces. Samantha is Pixie and Sophie is Mr. Burns (they got that part right); Pixie is Mr. Burn's mother. Pixie, now thought to be 15 or 16 years old, had two litters when very young. In each, two were shorthaired, two were long, two had tails and two did not, (a trait that came from Pixie's father). Mr. Burns has a brother named Mr. Brown and was named Mr. Burns by Ted's son because, as a kitten, he liked to play with candle flames. He does not answer to Mr. Burns.

Only Pixie and Mr. Burns venture away from home; Mr. Brown and all the others never do. Ted did assume they came to the gardens and thinks he knows why. Before he retired the house was often empty and, social butterflies that they are, they came to be around people. He also guessed that someone was taking care of them as both would periodically appear with a pretty radical deyakking, the occasional Mohawk, and once a complete shave for Sam. It was quite a shock when she tripped through the cat door, looking more like a Chihuahua.

This year, for the first time, it was Sophie who disappeared when the weather cooled and Sam who stayed. This is the first group of students at the college who have not had Sophie greet them as they started their year in the Gardens. We began to worry. Was he really gone? I decided I had to know and ventured across the street to knock on Ted's door.

There on the porch was a large, furry, brown cat with a short tail. This I found out was Mr. Brown and from Ted came the rest of the story. Best of all was the news I hoped for: Mr. Burns had come home and seemed to be staying. Now that Ted had retired he had the company he craved... but what of the gardens? Will he come back with the spring? Who knows, but one thing is clear. When I called Sophie he came to me. Ted thinks he'll switch names, and Sophie it will be from now on.

Jane Tice
Reprint of Jane's article from the March/April 2008 member newsletter.