Given that I last told you about one of Pearli’s pickles some ten months ago, you’d be forgiven for thinking she’d grown up a bit. Grown up (for a cat), at nearly three, we were hoping so, too.
A vain hope.
She continues leaving home through the highest aperture she can find, shunning the cat flap.
She remains the trollop of the upper village: imposing on guests in the Little Room, sometimes presenting us with a gift in anticipation of their arrival (often minutes before the estimated time of arrival). This week, in advance of a guest’s arrival, Pearli had an altercation with said cat flap, and for a couple of days, was rather sorry for herself. The Cat’s Mother and The Husband examined the sore foot, and found nothing untoward. No swelling. No lesion. Nevertheless, Princess Pearli hopped around on three legs: particularly when she thought that she’d garner sympathy from The Cat’s Mother.
But when Guest arrived, not even a limp: gamboling happily on all fours, she was!
If the Little Room is not occupied, and The Cat’s Mother (and The Husband) are in the proverbial dog box, often for reasons known only to Pearli, she takes up residence next door. Not only does she inhabit the main bedroom, she occupies the bed, snuggling under the covers, and in all likelihood, comes between its occupants! We sigh, now beyond embarrassment by this behaviour.
Rather, we are grateful that our neighbours love her like their own, particularly after she stole the limelight at one of their significant birthday celebrations and was graciously introduced to each and every guest!
That, however, is rather tame. She continues to trawl the streets for anyone who will pet her, while she hunts for prey – feathered or feline. Evidence of the latter is both heard and seen. Princess Pearli, it seems, takes the boundaries of her principality rather seriously, loudly, going where no-one has gone before, taking on potential invaders, sometimes to her own detriment. She seems, however, to shake off the scratches and scabs with aplomb, except for one occasion earlier this year when a rather nasty scratch on her back developed an abscess under the scab. Getting rid of that scab was essential.
The Cat’s Mother took a deep breath.
Spectacular results, a temporary bald spot, but all’s well that ends well.
Although not happy with The Cat’s Mother, she was well enough to resume her supervision of The Husband at work.
More of that, and the finished job, anon.
© Fiona’s Favourites 2016