Tiger Pearl, aka Pearli, is totally irrepressable and it’s rare that we get photographs of her mid-antic (as, happily was the case on this occasion).
Much to our horrified delight and pride, she learnt to use cat door at the ripe old age of eight weeks.
She is black lightening, through the rain, said cat flap, on to the couch and a pristine clean throw.
Until recently. She has, for some reason, decided that it is much more fun to come into the house through our bedroom window. One small problem: it’s on the gable end of our house in the loft space. The first time she appeared on the window sill she was rather nervous and wailed to be helped in – jumping back down was not an option.
The other morning, it was raining, and the Cat’s Mother found her, rather like Kilroy, trying to scrabble through the closed window. Nerve wracking for the Cat’s Mother who didn’t want her falling off the sill and bouncing on to the wet corrugated iron “afdak”*, and plummeting to the earth below. Fortunately, she held her footing and once the Cat’s Mother had opened the window, she happily jumped up to the top of the lower pane and in.
This morning was no different, except it must have been a hard night on the town. In she came, through the window at about 5.30am. No, like most girl children, she does not tell the mother what she’s been up to. Suffice it to say that she was exhausted and passed out on the chest of drawers at the bottom of the bed, on the soft mohair blanket and counterpane.
That was not it. As the Cat’s Parents were having our mandatory morning tea, she suddenly disappeared off the chest of drawers – with the mohair and counterpane. No thud; soft landing and one very bemused, sleepy kitty that was happy to have the Cat’s Mother scoop her into the warm bed for a comforting cuddle.