Return of the Feline
Feb. 11th, 2006 12:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
todayiamadaisyMiss 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.
On the farm, she'd never been anywhere near a road, she was free to roam entire hectares, and she'd only ever seen three dogs and a handful of cars. Moving her into the City by the Sea twelve years ago was therefore a time of great uncertainty. But she settled quickly. She beat up all the neighbouring cats and frightened the birds; she discovered that the Alsatian across the road was the wimpiest dog that ever did live and could be chased without fear of reprisal; she could enjoy the morning sun by sitting on next door's kitchen windowsill, which had the added bonus of being able to peer in at them when she was bored. She liked to come along, running on fences and through gardens, when I took the Old Black Dog for a walk, but in every direction there was a certain point that she could not pass but would sit and wait for us to come back. She also enjoyed rolling about on the road, but only when she thought we were watching so that was easily fixed.
She's seventeen now. For the past few years, she has had regular aspirins to keep the arthritis at bay, and she doesn't do the energetic jumping and chasing of her youth, but apart from that she's always been Action Cat.
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.
On the farm, she'd never been anywhere near a road, she was free to roam entire hectares, and she'd only ever seen three dogs and a handful of cars. Moving her into the City by the Sea twelve years ago was therefore a time of great uncertainty. But she settled quickly. She beat up all the neighbouring cats and frightened the birds; she discovered that the Alsatian across the road was the wimpiest dog that ever did live and could be chased without fear of reprisal; she could enjoy the morning sun by sitting on next door's kitchen windowsill, which had the added bonus of being able to peer in at them when she was bored. She liked to come along, running on fences and through gardens, when I took the Old Black Dog for a walk, but in every direction there was a certain point that she could not pass but would sit and wait for us to come back. She also enjoyed rolling about on the road, but only when she thought we were watching so that was easily fixed.
She's seventeen now. For the past few years, she has had regular aspirins to keep the arthritis at bay, and she doesn't do the energetic jumping and chasing of her youth, but apart from that she's always been Action Cat.
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.
