Sunday, 14 December 2008

It's Lottie!

Harry died in September. Missed terribly, he seemed impossible to replace, but Kevin moped, I moped, and the dog, seemingly impervious to the loss of a rival, certainly missed all the leftover cat dinners that a poorly cat donated. The household felt, and was, miserable and dull. Gradually it became time to look for a new companion through the local cat rescue websites. And suddenly, there she was.

The rescue centre's photo (that I posted here on the 11th Dec.) was all I had to go on before she came to me, with a brief description of her as apricot and tabby, but when she arrived, semi-hysterical and covered in her own poo after a frightening car journey, I saw that to look at she could have been Harry's little sister.
She isn't exactly a Harry clone, and has a very different personality, but the physical similarities are remarkable and strangely comforting.

She no longer stinks to the heavens, which is a relief, given her extreme friendliness.
She was in the rescue centre's foster home for a month, losing her emaciation, and has a great deal of energy to run off - she does this by charging up and down the stairs at high speed. Her need to play is very obvious. She has stalked the dog, who ignored her, being more interested in her toys, especially that whirring little chicken one that is crying out to be terrier-torn to shreds. She has tried everything to engage Kevin, all to no avail, even when she boxed his ears. All her bouncing, stalking, and throwing herself in front of him leaves him fairly unmoved - watching them, I felt it was like seeing an extremely old man regarding a lively toddler, mildly interested but firmly uninclined to join in the play. Her gleaming white paws are currently soot-coloured from her attempts to look up the chimney, and her curiosity is boundless.

Several names have been tried, and Lottie seems to be the one that gets the most enthusiastic response from her. She is utterly delightful, and I suspect that she may be younger than the guessed-at 18 months, and that an ancient cat and a middle-aged dog aren't going to be the most lively companions for her.

(See where this is leading? In January, the foster carer has a plump grey mackerel tabby kitten ready to rehome.....

she is just what was needed here, and as my mother used to say, I can feel my heart dropping back into its right place.

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