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 Poldi came to us as the successor to Diego, whom we had to say a heartfelt goodbye to in November 2023. The only condition: he should look different from Diego. Shortly before Christmas 2023, we met him at the Krefeld animal shelter. A true emergency case – abandoned in a basket on Mevissen Street. He was estimated to be about nine years old, supposedly with no major health issues, only a bit of tartar.

He got his name right away at our first meeting. He cried out, rubbed around our legs, and sounded as if he wanted to shout: “Ik will Dir fressen!” – just like the dragon Poldi from the German children’s show Hallo Spencer. And that was it: the name stuck instantly.

At home he was frightened at first, but settled in surprisingly quickly. It soon became clear, though, that he ate far too quickly and had trouble digesting. Dry food caused immediate constipation, while wet food was better – but only in small amounts. So his meals had to be divided into six mini-portions a day.

In June 2024, during the European Football Championship, things turned dramatic. On an extremely hot Friday with over 40°C, Poldi disappeared. Normally, nothing to worry about – unlike his predecessor, he was more of a home-based wanderer, rarely gone for more than two hours and always spending the night inside. But this time, he didn’t return.

I immediately launched a search: posters, Facebook posts, Tasso alerts, leaflets in mailboxes. Nothing. Finally, on Monday evening, while I was at choir rehearsal, my phone rang: Poldi had been found – only about 400 meters away as the crow flies. In a stranger’s garden, of all places, where he was licking water off a wet bush from a lawn sprinkler, despite being afraid of water. Apparently, he had been trapped without water for days, most likely in a locked garage or shed. On site, he hardly touched the food offered, but eagerly drank more than a liter of water. Later, he still needed fluids from the vet, as he hadn’t regained his strength even a week later. Since then, he has become more cautious: the adventurous free-roamer has turned into a garden cat who rarely disappears for longer than 40 minutes.

And yet: Poldi is still Poldi. He patrols his little kingdom, teases the neighborhood dogs, and proudly carries his nickname “Prince Poldi.”

In our first year together, we’ve learned a lot about him. He trusts women more quickly than men, regards strangers with suspicion, and absolutely hates vets – complaining loudly already on the way there, and once on the examination table, making sure everyone knows just how awful the whole thing is. At home, however, he lets me touch his paws, check his claws, and even open his mouth – as long as I don’t hold any tools like scissors.

Sadly, his past has left its marks. Poldi is too thin, has a slight gait abnormality, and reacts fearfully to feet or to hands approaching him from above. All signs suggest that he was once kicked or hit. On top of that, he suffers from kidney disease and needs special food.

Despite all this, he has found his place – most of all in my bed, where he relaxes, purrs, and simply is. We hope he’ll have many happy years with us still. He has certainly earned them.