Elwood community heartbroken after Paw Paw the cat’s death

Elwood is mourning a feisty, orange-haired feline, who became a star during the deepest depths of Melbourne’s Covid lockdowns, with her adventures boosting community spirits online.

Paw Paw made a name for herself by being a tad moody.

When Miss Strawberry, nee Paw Paw, aka Karen and Her Highness was finally spayed she went feral and turned to the streets.

Or so the story goes of the Elwood icon. Others called her our neighbourhood cat-lebrity.

Like all stars, the story of how Miss Strawberry, the motley, orange-haired, homeless 18-something-year-old minx who roamed our burb varies depending on who you talk to.

But there is no denying she had a wild streak. And she was a bolter.

As in many fateful tales, Miss Strawberry, or Paw Paw as she was first known, fell for the wrong guy.

She grew up as a much loved kitten, “playful and affectionate.” Your run-of-the mill moggy.

But one day Paw Paw ventured out, wide-eyed and magnificently bushy-tailed. It was on the wrong side of Southey St where she met her tomcat, a handsome grey.

A couple of litters out of wedlock later and her scandalised owners decided the time had come for Paw Paw to endure the indecency of being spayed.

Her bereft former owner described Paw Paw as “never quite the same” after the operation and her motherly instincts had gone to the dogs.

Paw Paw turned on her young daughter Gigi and started hanging out and hustling on the streets.

Then she did a bolter.

Paw Paw was well-known around Elwood

Paw Paw had her favourite spots to sit and soak up attention

“She didn’t want to be with us. She would hang out in Southey St at random places. “Whenever I would bring her home she’d carry on and runaway again.

“This went on for a long time and eventually I got the hint and let her be. She left us.”

Her hard first years on the street were spent darting from house to house like a cat on a hot tin roof.

To steal another line from Tennessee Williams, like Blanche DuBois she “depended on the kindness of strangers” and her new moniker, Miss Strawberry, was born.

Her splendid splotchy fur coat turned manky and disheveled, but her personality always shone through.

Locals took kindly to her, leaving out bowls, or even a bed to curl up in on a cold night.

Her grey tomcat was long gone. But for years Miss Strawberry carried on living life tough and rough on the mean streets of Elwood.

Then the pandemic hit and she became a bonafide star.

Deprived of social interaction Melbourne looked within. Dan’s dreaded 5km radius became our everything.

The stories of Miss Strawberry’s trevails kept community spirits high on the neighbourhood Facebook page.

Penny, an elderly resident who took in foster dogs, became Miss Strawberry’s quasi keeper in lock down.

Penny adopted her, or as she later posted, “Maybe it was vice versa.”

Her dingy fur coat returned to its former splendour. Miss Strawberry knew it and proudly strutted Southey St as if it were her personal catwalk.

Residents walked the streets on their daily outing to catch a glimpse of her.

While she appeared homeless, she was very well cared for

Paw Paw roamed the streets of Elwood for 18 years

Soon people were driving around just to get a photo with Her Highness, the Queen of Elwood.

Miss Strawberry was all of us in Covid. Sometimes she had her good days, purring and flirting coquettishly with passersby on her chosen brick stoop.

To others she was a downright puss, hissing and taking a swipe at unsuspecting doofus dogs on their morning outing.

An arm shred was not out of the question if you got too close on a bad day.

It all depended on the fine feline’s mood. A Miss Strawberry devotee described the motley minx as being “bipolar,” she was so up and down. One day she could be cantankerous, hissing at passersby, unimpressed with the world with her “resting bitch face” and cruelly dubbed “Karen.”

There were the “Miss Mangels” who pushed their noses into her life. Every second day her self-appointed keeper Penny posted notices calling on the worry warts to leave Miss Strawberry alone.

Some wanted her caught and taken to the pound. The do-gooder trolls said she was bad for the environment and needed to be “chipped,” to which Penny would laugh.

“You try and take Miss Strawberry to the vet,” she posted and you could hear her chuckling.

Penny gave Miss Strawberry a voice. “I know some people have been concerned about me and think maybe I am lost.

“But I get a kick out of appearing homeless and sleeping rough. In fact I have a fur-lined mini tent. I choose to ignore it.”

She grew to have hundreds of fans. People on drive-bys to see her would out of their cars to give her a pressie.

Maybe a piece of shrivelled pigs ear, some kibble and to take a selfie to which she sometimes obliged.

Miss Strawberry died this week after a hit and run and has left behind a broken-hearted burb.