House guest
We have a furry house guest for about 7 weeks. My parents are going to Australia and New Zealand on holiday, so we’re looking after their cat, M, so that she doesn’t have to go into a cattery for the duration. M was a rescue cat and spent some time on the streets, but she’s also very fond of human company, and didn’t get on at all well when she had a short stay in a cattery once before. She’s not the kind of cat who is all over you, but she just likes to know that you’re around. My Dad works at home, and every day, she follows him up to the office in the morning, parks herself on the sofa, then follows him down to lunch like a little shadow.
The folks weren’t looking forward to the three-hour drive to our house in the car with her—-like most cats, she associates going in the cat basket in the car with men in white coats who do painful things and undignified things to you—-but she was actually very good once she’d settled down. It was funny watching her exploring the house, checking out every nook and cranny and marking every conceivable cat-head-height upright with her cheek scent glands.
Anyway, she seems to have settled into a demanding and rigourous routine of sleeping, eating and light sessions of neighbourhood watch. She sits on the windowsill of the living room window, twitching the nets and observing the comings and goings of the neighbours closely.
She has one rather disconcerting habit; when you’re stroking her, she suddenly stares fixedly at a point behind you, about two feet above your head, pupils wide. I can stand it for a few minutes before I crack and have to look to see what she’s looking at (nothing as far as I can see). It’s a bit freaky.
I’ve been suffering with a very heavy cold and a slight fever for the past couple of days, so it’s really comforting to have a soft, little furry body sitting on the duvet with me, purring her rough two-stroke engine purr.
