Tag Archives: Darling Scotty

Moving slowly onwards

Because, you know, I MUST have a cat companion. I can’t exist without one, I now know that.

There was a time, after Chic died, when I thought I could: although I’d attempted to follow his subtle instructions for how to manage without him and had two Russian Blues, one after the other, they were disasters (as I wrote). And after on-selling the second one I was convinced I was OK without.

Then Leanne-up-the-corridor gave me a small ginger kitty and that was that. I’d got to a point where I could tolerate the movement about me and not give a rat’s arse about the untidiness created. And not only that, but the ineffable comfort ! – oh, the comfort of that little body …

So here’s where I’m at.

A really delightful couple who are fosterers for Project Meow (remember ?) came by yesterday with regard to my wish to adopt (cough !) Darling Scotty.

He looks incredibly like a tabby I once had, with his anxious eyes, whose name was Dr McCoy ! – and I’d also had Captain Kirk and Mr Spock, so this one could be the missing member of the quartet.

I’m off to see him on Tuesday.

And there remains in the mix, still, this feller:

whose name is Odin. He doesn’t look all that fearsome, does he ?! To me, he looks as if he needs to be clutched and kissed on – much as does Scotty. Well, in truth, I would probably do that to any cat as nice-looking as these two.

Although Odin is via a different fostering-out organisation, he too is a Project Meow moggy, I’m happy to say. But the potential problem here is that I have NO IDEA where he is currently living: he could be in Eltham, or bloody Frankston !, for all I know. And if he is on the other side of Melbourne, I shan’t be going to look at him. Why not ? – because I will not cart him all the way from there to Geelong: he would end up in emotional tatters.

So. That’s where I am. I have some hope for a life better than mine has been for the last two weeks.

STOP PRESS:

Odin is out of the equation. His fosterer, a sweet Canadian lass called Stephanie, tells me there are a couple of issues that I, reluctantly having to admit to this alarming number of years and concomitant lack of fitness/ability to be a physical carer, would not be able to surmount. Goodbye, Odin, you beautiful cuddly moggy … But Stephanie has bonded with him, and thinks she will change from being a fosterer to being an owner.   :)

It’s looking very like the anxious-eyed one will become the h’object of my h’affections, then, eh ? This will depend entirely upon his reaction to me. But I don’t see how ANY cat could resist this large, warm, affectionate cat-platform that is your author …