The Great Western Experience

How to get an entire town laughing....at me.

Great Western is a small town on the edge of The Grampians. With a tiny store, a petrol station, a cute post office (open until 12 each day!) and a roadside pub, Great Western was home for me from 22 April until early Jun 2021.  The allure of hiking and some non-urban time with only a cat and 16 pigeons seemed ideal.

Astrid and Mike, the homeowners, welcomed me the evening before their departure. Excited about their marvelous sounding overland journey to the Northern Territory and the commencement of a long break from work, they offered me a celebratory beer upon arrival.

Ajax was a fairly timid rescue cat who was holed up under the doona when I arrived. Considering myself a bit of a cat whisperer I attempted to coax him out. This was not to be, so I spoke to him through the blanket and petted him so at least he had some sense of who I was.

Astrid and Mike rattled on about the Facebook page that was to tell the world about their journey, the contest to guess how many pull tabs they would collect from soft drinks and stubbies, and the places they would discover. This was a once in a lifetime journey with a convoy of friends.

We ambled down to the pub to drink some more, get introduced to Bruce who ran the pub and, and met a handful of locals. Pictures of players past and present of the Great Western Lions adorned the walls around the bar and I was filled in on the upcoming home games and other tales of footy glory!

“Astrid, does Ajax go outside at all?” Astrid replied, “Well, he will go outside and follow you around but does not go very far from you”.

My brain read that as Ajax will not go very far away from Astrid.

“Astrid, I am not going to let Ajax out of the house. I think that is best”, I advised her.

With “Beware the Cat” and “Don’t Let the Cat Out” signs around the home making sure Ajax did not disappear was key to a successful sit.

The next day Mike and Astrid ambled off before sunrise and I awoke to find Ajax huddled in their bed once again.  He stayed hidden away all day.

That same evening, I needed a log to put on the fire and I slid the glass door open and took the 4 steps to the wood pile. As I turned around with the piece of lumber in my hands, Ajax was poised at the open door.

He looked at me.

I looked at him.

Under my breath I said, “Don’t you dare come out the door, you little fucker!”

Whoosh, he was out and gone like the wind. He looked over his shoulder at me and gave me what I thought was a wink and a wave making it clear he was running free.

For the next 24 hours I left food inside and out and the door ajar, I was pretty certain he would return when he was hungry. I was hopeful.

There was no sign of Ajax. No animal had touched the food.

To top it off, I am near sighted and had broken my glasses just before leaving Melbourne, so even if he was nearby, I was not going to have an Ajax sighting.

So, dear reader, do you tell the couple on the journey of their lifetime the cat has run off or do you keep this to yourself and lie to them each time you know they are going to ask for an update on their beloved puss?

Within 24 hours that decision was made, and I messaged Astrid and asked her to give me a call. She was sweet and understood and she placed no blame on me. We both thought the cat would come back when he was hungry.

Days passed and I proceeded to leave food in doors and outdoors. Untouched at times, all gone at others. Of course, no sightings of the cat so any feral or local animal could have been having a feast.

150 meters away from the house of Ajax ran the Western Highway which links Melbourne and Adelaide. Road Trains rumbled up and down the road day and night. The feline did not stand a chance if he wandered to that way.

The town’s Facebook page was broadcasting the news and someone brought over a possum trap to see if I could capture the cat.

I even had Astrid send me a recording of her calling Ajax so I could play it outside over a portable speaker.

No cat.

There was no need to post any pictures around town on telephone poles or in the pub. As I said, this was a tiny town, everyone knew the story.

Anytime I went to a local footy match or to the pub or anywhere in this small village people asked me about the cat. One of the locals at the footy said, “Hey have ya found that cat yet?” When I answered in the negative, he asked me to come to his house and help with the cat that lived with his family.

It became a running joke for the weeks I was there and the smiles and laughter it brought to the locals faces far outweighed their concern for Ajax. Everyone seemed to want to ask me about the cat and it made for a better topic of conversation than the pandemic.

I never saw Ajax again.

On the day I left, I fed the pigeons, cleaned the house and made my way back to locked down Melbourne.

Within 24 hours of arriving back home, I received a text from Astrid telling me that Ajax had returned, “a little bit leaner, but in good health”.

I will always wonder if this was the Great Practical Joke of Great Western.

Fuckin’ Ajax.

By the way the pigeons all survived unscathed, and none were harmed or lost during my time in Great Western.