She came from a woman in town, a workmate of the Farm Manager, who was a prosperous and well-educated person, who for some reason didn't believe in having her cats fixed, and therefore had multiple batches of kittens to give away every year.
Having a farm and a big old barn, this person assumed we were delighted to take in her surplus kittens, and over the years we took in at least half a dozen.
We were not delighted.
We had three dogs at the time. One of them had a taste for pussy, so to speak. Mew is the sole survivor.
Anyway, after the last kid left, I re-christened her "Doublewide," because, while I never brought it up with the kid in question, I found the original moniker lacking in any sort of imagination or creativity.
At least "Doublewide" more accurately captured her essence.
She is with us still.
She's still got a touch of PTSD from the first day we brought Bruno into her life. It was at least three months before we saw her again.
But she's pretty much back to normal.
Every time I walk through the kitchen, she shrieks at me. The shrieking all sounds the same, but I know what she means by where she's hollering from.
If she's under the sink behind the water dish, she's saying, "there's too much dog drool and fix it now."
If she's under the sink in front of the water dish, she needs you to give her a sprinkle of tap water for her daily ablutions.
And if she's half way between the sink and the back stairs, she's saying "throw a few treats on the third step from the bottom, thanks!"
In return, this cat, who used to be a first-class mouser, does absolutely nothing.
Other than nap.
Cats don't hitch hike because they have such tiny thumbs.
ReplyDelete