Feline Fretting
We had our first proper cat fret this morning.
The cats have been allowed out of the house unsupervised for a little over a week. We showed them the cat flap and since then there has been no stopping them; we still leave them in the kitchen over night for the purposes of maintaining our own sanity, but they have their beds and water and access to the garden, so it’s not so onerous for them.
Even allowing for their roaming, there are usually a couple of furry bodies waiting patiently by the kitchen door to be allowed in and bounce on ellefurtle in bed on a morning when I go down to make the coffee. If they aere not there immediately, they are back in through the flap within moments once they realise that there is activity.
This morning it was just Peploe? There was no sign whatsoever of MoneyPenny. His Nibbs went bouncing upstairs as usual, but I have to confess to a little low level fretting when she didn’t show up. Three-quarter of an hour later there was still no sign, even after Furtle had wandered down the garden with the bell that we ring when we feed them, which normally brings them scooting at warp speed. Furtle did find MoneyPenny’s collar on the garden path. She even wandered up and down the street out front for a few yards in either direction in case the cat had got out the front.
Still no sign.
We put the biscuits out for the cats - usually a good way of having their radar ears guide them in. Just Peploe? again. I have to confess that by this point, there was some serious fretting going on. I took the bell down the garden and we thought about hailing the builders next door (in the never quite finished bungalow), when Furtle saw the cat in the cherry tree. Just a little higher and a little further along the bounciest of branches than any cat we’ve ever seen up there. She clearly had no idea how to get back down and was looking very nervous. Furtle managed to coax her back, but she slipped on the last yard by the trunk and landed on it with a bit of a thud before scooting under a bush, all wide-eyed and panicked.
Shortly afterwards we got her back in the house and after she’d wandered around a ;little she trotted over for breakfast and since we’d got ready early on her account, we managed to squeeze a bit of fussing in too, which the normally slightly stand-offish creature seemed to appreciate.
It took most of the walk to the station at Ilford for the adrenaline to wear off. I guess we’re proper cat parents, now.
The cats have been allowed out of the house unsupervised for a little over a week. We showed them the cat flap and since then there has been no stopping them; we still leave them in the kitchen over night for the purposes of maintaining our own sanity, but they have their beds and water and access to the garden, so it’s not so onerous for them.
Even allowing for their roaming, there are usually a couple of furry bodies waiting patiently by the kitchen door to be allowed in and bounce on ellefurtle in bed on a morning when I go down to make the coffee. If they aere not there immediately, they are back in through the flap within moments once they realise that there is activity.
This morning it was just Peploe? There was no sign whatsoever of MoneyPenny. His Nibbs went bouncing upstairs as usual, but I have to confess to a little low level fretting when she didn’t show up. Three-quarter of an hour later there was still no sign, even after Furtle had wandered down the garden with the bell that we ring when we feed them, which normally brings them scooting at warp speed. Furtle did find MoneyPenny’s collar on the garden path. She even wandered up and down the street out front for a few yards in either direction in case the cat had got out the front.
Still no sign.
We put the biscuits out for the cats - usually a good way of having their radar ears guide them in. Just Peploe? again. I have to confess that by this point, there was some serious fretting going on. I took the bell down the garden and we thought about hailing the builders next door (in the never quite finished bungalow), when Furtle saw the cat in the cherry tree. Just a little higher and a little further along the bounciest of branches than any cat we’ve ever seen up there. She clearly had no idea how to get back down and was looking very nervous. Furtle managed to coax her back, but she slipped on the last yard by the trunk and landed on it with a bit of a thud before scooting under a bush, all wide-eyed and panicked.
Shortly afterwards we got her back in the house and after she’d wandered around a ;little she trotted over for breakfast and since we’d got ready early on her account, we managed to squeeze a bit of fussing in too, which the normally slightly stand-offish creature seemed to appreciate.
It took most of the walk to the station at Ilford for the adrenaline to wear off. I guess we’re proper cat parents, now.