Return of the Feline

Miss Pink has always been something of an Action Cat*. She's a tree-climber, a plant-squasher, a dog-teaser, mouse-catcher and bird-chaser, who pants with her mouth open and, while we lived on a farm, was fond of prowling belly-deep in the swamp in search of small fishy things. Not so much cat as tiny beige tiger.

( Cut to spare the less cat-inclined )

Eighteen months ago, that all changed. She would slink away and cower when she saw Mopsy from next door or the pampered show cat from the back neighbours. She would run and hide in my wardrobe at the slightest noise - thunder, the street sweeper, someone sneezing. She wouldn't eat without constantly looking around to see if anyone was creeping up behind her. "Age," it was decided, "and what goes around comes around." After all those years of being the alpha cat by force, she was slipping. It happens to the best of us.

Six months ago, Lysis, her kittenhood companion and the only cat she never bothered about at all, had to be put to sleep due to a large tumour. About a month after that, it occurred to me that Miss Pink hadn't had to hide herself in my wardrobe for... ooh, about a month. Could it be that she knew Lysis was sick?

Since then, Action Cat has returned. She eats properly, she stalks the crows, she ignores Mopsy and stares down the show cat. And just this morning she chased a puppy.

It's good to have her back.



* That's Action Cat within the context of being a cat, of course. She still spends two-thirds of her time sleeping.