Friday, 10 August 2007
looks remarkably comfortable up there, doesn't she? She's lying on some of the strips I've cut for Andrew and Sarah's quilt, and she's trying to snooze, despite the attentions of her beloved Advo. Twas not always so; when we got her, she was a frightened six month old kitten, mother of her own litter (Merlin was one of hers, the runt of the litter, apparently, but that's another story altogether.). The thing about Millie was that she had a very black and white approach to life. Cats, she said, were not allowed on the furniture. If she saw her sister Mollie up on the sofa, or Merlin, for that matter, she would box their ears and screech at them. Same if they sat on anything that wasn't a newspaper. Or even without any provocation at all. Attack first, ask questions afterwards, that was our Millie. (Mind you, she had the sense not to attack Advo, though she has been known to dot him over the nose if he importunes...).
The vet explained that she could cope with cats, or she could cope with humans, but not both together in the same household. So the other cats Got It, as we were a bit on the big side for attacking. Gradually, over the time we've had her, she has relaxed. She now sits on my knee, sometimes, purring. She gets on the bed for a snooze like everyone else; the table, too, any quilt that happens to be around, whatever. She purrs with enthusiasm when stroked, and she talks endlessly, particularly if there's no grub in the bowls.
She's a changed cat. Amazing what a lot of love will do for a cat. Or a human, for that matter.... it's all just a question of time and faith.