Tuesday, 12 August 2014


Okay, the title's a joke but that's the only thing about this post which is.

Here's Tilly. Note: it's appropriate she's sitting next to a copy of the Alien DVD box set.

Her owner had been taken into an old people's home and she'd made no provision for the cat's care. The 18 year old son of neighbours had, against their wishes as they aren't animal people. taken pity on the three year old cat and brought her into their house. When they initially rang me a week ago I did the usual spiel about no fosterers, two flu jabs over three weeks, try Cat Chat Tyne & Wear website for other local rescue. And yesterday they got back to me -who only recently adamantly declared that I was not fostering any more cats, no sir!- and I stupidly said I'd take her.

I went round at lunch time. Sitting on a dining table chair, she sniffed my fingers then rang into the middle of the room, hissed at me and ran for cover under a couch. I left the cat carrier and asked the couple to call me around teatime if they could get the cat into the carrier about then and that's what happened.

I'd been assured that, while nervous, she did come round in the week that she'd been with them and would come and sit next to them to be stroked. They also told me that she'd been a house cat and the little old lady had hardly any visitors. I think you can see the inherent problems from that piece of information.

I took her home and got her into the cage, losing a small amount of blood to what had become a whirling dervish with sharp teeth and claws. Once inside the cage, she launched herself at me if I came remotely close. I had my tea and then went out to a pub quiz with Susan, Ann, Richie, and Sandra from Animal Krackers only to find that the pub had stopped doing them. Still it was a pleasant enough evening.

After watching an episode of Veronica Mars (I'm working my way through the three DVD box sets and finding the show as fresh as it was when I first saw it, but that's a story for a different blog), and drinking a glass of wine, I went to bed. 

But not to sleep. 

Tilly was attacking the cage and howling. She'd calm down for a time and then resume. I began to have fantasies of caticide and, more practically, considering phoning the RSPCA in the morning to see if they'd take the homicidal monster off my hands. I considered letting her out of the cage but feared a savage assault which would result in me dragging my bloodied and bleeding body off to A&E. I pulled the duvet over my head and tried to sleep.

Around two a.m. I let her out of the cage and would have started praying but I'm an atheist so there wasn't much point in that. She wandered around before jumping on the front window and looking outside and started howling again. Then she moved to the chest of drawers. At one point she sat on the bedside cabinet and glared at me. I tensed up expecting an assault but none came. Eventually I went to sleep.

Waking about six, all was quiet so I went back to sleep again for an hour and a half. When I got up, she was where you see in her the top photograph. After going to the loo she'd moved underneath a stool, second photo. In both cases she let me get within three feet and only hissed a couple of times. I suppose that's progress.

And that is it. Right now I'm waiting for a call from Susan as to whether or not I'm driving the van to finish off a house clearance she began yesterday as she is not very well at all this morning and can hardly move.

I'll keep you informed about Tilly.

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