Curiousity

Yesterday the cat returned through the open window in the front room. She shocked us all, even the owner who came several times, I assure you, worry stricken, to call for her baby. She has returned more confident than ever, but is still spooked about the rest of the rooms in the house. She is getting used to us, though.

This morning I sat with her on my lap, singing to her. She licked my fingers. I was so touched until I remembered I had been making tuna sandwiches beforehand. So much for catterly affection, eh.

We are tremendously pleased that she has returned, of course, and we are loathe to let her go again before we get her a GPS collar. Just until she gets used to us. It shan’t be long. Then she can traverse the neighbourhood as she pleases.

I can’t believe she knew to come back to us, though, despite only being with us for three days! She is a gorgeous thing with beautiful eyes and the most delightfully clean coat ever, spotted with black and ginger and white. She is perfect.

Nine Days

Cats have nine lives. Maybe I could be a cat, and each day could represent a life. A life is a very long time, folks. It is certainly long enough to revise for a final exam comprising of several literary books from several different eras.

The rest of the lives I could use for much needed revision.

Nine days is not enough, how do cats do it.

Speaking of cats. Oh sigh. Such a big big sigh. I am miserable.

My inlaws got a cat on Thursday. She is a beautiful little thing, around five years old, and we’d got her from a lady who is travelling for two years. They say you shouldn’t let cats out for the first two weeks because they need to settle, and they would only just try to find their way to the home they know if they are let out.

So we were terribly vigilant about keeping doors and windows shut.

The darling little creature stuck only to the front room, where she hid under the sofa at first, but then gradually began to come out and lounge on the window sill and meander around the room, letting us tickle behind her ears and stroke her soft, warm fur.

We tried to make her go into other rooms but she would always race back to the front room. She still needed to get used to the place.

This morning at 6am I opened the kitchen window, closing both kitchen doors so she wouldn’t come in. I knew she wouldn’t anyway, she never left the living room! But, you know, just in case.

I accidentally left the window open when I left. It was only a sliver. But I am sure enough for any kitty to get through.

I got a text from my sister in law when I was in another city at around 8am asking if I had seen the cat.

She is missing.

I feel so so awful and terrible and weighed down because I think it is all my fault. My husband thinks it might not be me, because his dad went out late at night and left the front door open. But it might be me. And everybody thinks it is me. And the cat is missing, and her old home is more than 20 minutes away in the car.

I am so worried that I can’t focus on my revision for my exam in nine days, and I know everybody will blame me and the kids will hold a grudge against me (because they are the kind of kids to do that, at least one of them is) and the poor cat wandering about all lost and scared in new surroundings and it’s all just awful awful awful.

Poor kitty.