For weeks, we didn't know whether we should get another cat. I looked around at local rescues and nothing seemed to fit us. But our big soppy boy was moping, and so were we. We've never been a one cat household before.
I saw a photo of a young cat, rescued from a colony over in a town 80kms away. After a few weeks of discussion, we decided to go and check her out - we could visit human friends on the way, so the trip didn't seem too extravagant.
She is a lovely wee thing - very skittish and skinny, but then she'd lived wild for the first months of her life. Her markings are the pavement special variety. Not much aristocratic heritage to be seen, but her bluish coloured eyes suggest an oriental touch somewhere in the ancestry and sweetness seems to ooze out of her. We decided to take a chance.
She was delivered to us today by the lovely lady who runs the sanctuary. We've made a small room for her at the end of our long hallway, so that she can get used to the smells and noises of the house, and the big soppy boy - Mango. When she came out of her cage she checked out the room and wove in and out of our legs. Apparently, she is quite a maternal wee thing, and I foresee a role reversal taking place, with her taking care of the soppy lad, rather than the other way around.
An hour prior to her arrival, said silly ginger got beaten up by the neighbour's cat, so we had to lock him in another room to calm him down. I'm now covered in his fur as a wrangled him into the spare bedroom.
We live in the middle of a cat soap opera.
The new Fairie Queen is to be called Vienna, because she looks like a milky coffee when she is curled up. Her rescue name was Bonnie. Mango brought us a live mouse just after midnight last night, so I predict this new twosome could develop into prohibition rodent eradication partnership - shades of Bonnie and Clyde.
More to follow.
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