And this attempt wasn't so successful. Large grey cat appeared at top of (scruffy) back lane. Millie was in paroxysms of delight: new friend on the horizon! Some stalking, aloofness, attempts to outstare, until I got bored with the cat version of Glacial Speed Dating and went back indoors.
Lottie remained behind a wheelie bin; was she the chaperone, or just a scaredy cat?
After ten minutes, Millie flew in, wildly rattling the catflap, the fur on her side loosened in tufts suggestive of a hefty swipe by her new friend. Other than being a little over-excited, which is her default position anyway, she seemed unharmed, although happy to remain indoors with me.
I went out to find, and possibly rescue, timid Lottie, to find her sitting nose to nose with the grey stranger, all fluffed up to twice her usual size, and a distinct air of "Touch my little sister again, matey, and you'll have me to deal with!"
But she let me pick her up and carry her home. Discretion is the better part of valour, after all.
Lottie remained behind a wheelie bin; was she the chaperone, or just a scaredy cat?
After ten minutes, Millie flew in, wildly rattling the catflap, the fur on her side loosened in tufts suggestive of a hefty swipe by her new friend. Other than being a little over-excited, which is her default position anyway, she seemed unharmed, although happy to remain indoors with me.
I went out to find, and possibly rescue, timid Lottie, to find her sitting nose to nose with the grey stranger, all fluffed up to twice her usual size, and a distinct air of "Touch my little sister again, matey, and you'll have me to deal with!"
But she let me pick her up and carry her home. Discretion is the better part of valour, after all.
3 comments:
I guess this large grey cat wasn't as neighborly as Toffee. It's good that Millie has a big sister looking out for her.
It's so nice to see cats who go Out, and know what to do when they are Out. American cats are usually In.
The cat politcs on my parents' cul de sac are very similar, and as glacial.
One a Maine Coone sat in the street gutter outside their house every day for a year before my parents started to feed him, and my dad started to comb his fur. Long story, but he actually belonged to people up the road, and a feud ensued. The cat wanted to live with parents. And now he does, papers and all.
[the captcha below is purcode!!!]
Burgled by an 8 month-old kitten. What a charming thought!
These two posts make me wish I had two cats instead of one. Rupert (16) has had very little contact with other cats since I collected him from a farm aged 4 weeks - his mother had been run over soon after he was born, and he was reared in front of the Aga by the farmer's wife.
Now though, we live in a house which is on the cat version of a rat-run, with frequent visitors who have easy access up paths, through gates and hedges. Not all of them are pleasant, and one is quite a bully, terrifying my poor boy who has taken to marking (!) his space in a attempt to feel safe.
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