August 7, 2011

• Little Kitten

  We collected Josephine from the RSPCA when I was 13: she was very little, and she was called Napolian at that point, which was a silly name for a little girl. So we renamed her. She had a soft green collar for her first few years, and a green food bowl, and green litter tray. She lived indoors and outdoors, and was always on the wrong side of the door.

  

  She hated eating - well, she would eat if she liked it. Maybe.  Mum used to sit patiently while she licked a morsel of food off her finger, and, eventually, after half an hour, she'd manage a meal.  Being a picky eater didn't stop her hunting - baby birds, pigeons as big as she was, the odd squirrel. It also didn't stop her eating grass and being ick.  She'd come running for some dried fishy things, bit like sprats.  And crunchy food. She was a crunchy food kitten, rather than a gushy food kitten.

  She used to love sitting and watching running water. Not touching it. Ooh no. Not water.  She was very unimpressed at having her feet washed. But she had just been wandering through some gloss paint, so it was a bit necessary. You know. To remove the paint remover.  She'd prefer drinking from the bird bath, and, when my parents moved, she much preferred the river water.

  She used to play chase with Mum while Mum gardened. Or lounge around in the green house. She'd climb the highest walls, and occasionally get stuck: until the ladder came out, at which point, she'd bound down. 

  

  She'd try and climb up the chimney, or leap from the top of the bannisters onto the hall light.  If the door opened, she'd be through it like a shot, into the interesting corners of the cellar, or to find a new spot under a bed.  We spent a lot of time retrieving her.

  She'd snuggle on Daddy's lap every night, and purr. My goodness, she could purr. Incredibly loudly.  She hated having her tummy groomed, and would growl and stick out a paw.  As she got older, her purr got quieter - but it was still there.  She'd sleep with her paw sticking out, hanging over the edge of the cat's cradle.  Just so.  Or, nose under paws, all wrapped up tight.

  

  She went blind, and deaf. She still ate a little, but lost weight, and lost weight.  She drank heaps, and spent most of the day asleep. She'd meander off for a sniff, then come back, and get lost in the kitchen or the dining room.  She didn't really want to sit on a lap.  She didn't mind being cuddled so much, though, as long as you didn't try to stroke her head.  And, oh, she still purred.  And, on Monday, I said goodbye, and on Tuesday, Mum stayed with her, as the vet hugged our little sweetie, and told her she was a sweetheart, and we made a great big hole.

  Funny how someone so little leaves such a big hole.

  xxx

  • 12:18 pm
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