We’re not kidding, cat AIDS is real and it’s totally scary. Each year, Feline Immunodeficiency Virus (FIV) claims more fuzzy lives than any other cat disease, of which (judging from the state of the cats skulking around these days) there are many. FIV acts in much the same way as its human variant. It attacks the immune system, is ultimately fatal and is carried in the blood. That last point is particularly bad news for a species that literally can’t get enough of fights and orgies.

In Australia (where I’m writing this from), approximately one in twelve cats test positive for it, and those are just the kitties whose owners care enough to get them tested. As with people, the numbers are way higher for strays. Petals (24 cat years old) is not a stray, but she’s definitely in the high-risk category. She isn’t vaccinated, has a habit of disappearing for days and, according to her owner Kiara, is forever getting into scrapes. Also, despite being attractive and well brought up, it should be said that Petals has a penchant for wild and degrading sex – often without protection. With all of this in mind, it was definitely time to get Petals tested.

We arrived at the clinic ten minutes early and sat in the waiting room. It must have been 100 degrees in there. Every surface was covered in orange scratching post material and the whole place smelled like fish food. Whoever the interior decorator was must have been well versed in whatever the cat version of Feng Shui is. Even Kiara was looking blissed out, and she’d spent the entire car trip stressing out about being a shitty parent.

When the vet came out, she put Petals at ease with a single touch, much like some kind of supreme cat Buddha. She started out by giving Petal a quick physical, listing, one by one, all of the things that she probably didn’t have wrong with her. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a long list. What quickly became apparent was that, besides living in a crack den, Petals ticked pretty much every Cat AIDS box. Apart from being a little overweight, everything was screaming FIV.

Kiara’s nerves were now at puke level. She’d gone quiet. Quiet and clammy. Earlier she’d questioned whether she was responsible enough. The pair had recently moved house and with Kiara juggling two jobs, she was finding it hard to bring home the Fancy Feast and still keep track of the peculiarities of her pet’s lifestyle. While Kiara was blaming herself, Petals was getting super into the attention. She was making all these weird noises and kept backing up onto the vet. It was getting hard to pity her. Like seriously, Cat AIDS isn’t enough? You want to get Human AIDS too?

The vet was kind enough to perform the test right in front of us. I think I may have mislead her into thinking I was some kind of serious cat journalist. Someone made a joke about it looking like a pregnancy test (it was a similar shape except you put blood on it instead of pee, which makes sense because cat piss stinks) and Kiara went a little bit paler. I wondered if that was a familiar scenario.

The vet applied the blood and everyone stood around watching the drama unfold. It felt a lot like that movie Philadelphia, if I’d actually seen that movie and it turned out Tom Hanks was a cat. Poor Petals. She didn’t deserve this. No cat does. So what if she is a slut, who cares? Tomcats are all huge sluts and people love them for it. Sweet little Petals is just trying to enjoy her 20s and instead, she’s wasting them in a doctor’s office.

Finally the 10 minutes were up, it was time to check the results. Squinting down at the little plastic thingy, we saw no blue lines. Thank fuck, the little hussy had somehow dodged the bullet. Kiara scooped her up for a squeeze and you could really feel the love between mother and cat child. The vet showed us out with a wizened look that said “Don’t let me see you crazy kids back in here, ok?” Or maybe I imagined it.
Anyway, there you have it. A rare happy ending for a species under siege. Congratulations Petals! Enjoy your special celebration cat party! You’ve earned it!

Note: cat AIDS doesn’t have to be a death sentence. To find out more, contact your nearest cat expert.

WORDS: WENDY SYFRET
PICTURES: MAX FINCH