That is NOT Lui. Not my cat. Whose ? – a matter of conjecture …
Yesterday morning …
At the unspeakable hour I am always dragged from my bed by the cat who IS Lui – the close vicinity of 5 am – I let him out the side sliding door into the yard and went into the kitchen to turn on The Coffee Machine. Waited for all the processes of heating and grinding and pulling the shot and making the milk red-hot, and finished. Suddenly realized Lui hadn’t come back in.
Wandered casually out and around the back part of my yard, to find Lui and him up there ^ in that photo squaring off at the end of the pathway. The second he ^ spotted me he went up the 12′ metal fence as if it was a set of stairs: truly, it was amazing ! Lui, my totally beloved 12½-y-o mog, hissed and spat and growled at me from the depths of his gut. Wouldn’t let me near him. I went back inside with my coffee and drank it morosely.
Eventually Lui came back in, behaving as if nothing had happened: jumped up onto my lap and purred, the little bugger. I punished him by hugging him very tightly.
Last night …
Went to bed around 9:30, as you do… Awoken by the sound of Lui mucking about in the vertical blind over the side door. Knew instantly what must be going on, and yes, there he ^ was, the great bastard – sitting in my little pot-planted yard, driving Lui insane. I waved my arms almost as if trying to stop a taxi from roaring past me in the driveway, and he ^ climbed leisurely up the wooden fence and sat on top of the gate. No faces I made at him had any effect. I couldn’t just go back to bed and leave him there: I had to make sure he had GONE. So I was obliged to open the sliding door; and Lui erupted out under my feet. He ^ turned and walked swiftly back along the top of the dividing fence and disappeared.
I went to where Lui was hissing and spitting and growling under my standing planter and tried to speak calmly to him. Being an extremely stupid person sometimes, I put out my hand to him; and he let fly with a right uppercut. I screamed really loudly because he had two claws wedged in my hand, and managed eventually to detach the latter from the former. Then I went back inside and applied bandaids. Lui came back in within a surprisingly short time, and once again I was in the company of Dr Jekyll. (Btw, my scream appeared to have awoken nobody. Just goes to show that it’s no more safe living within the grounds of an aged care facility than it is living outside one.)
I’d been over to Belmont to my optometrist, run into H ! and had a pie-and-cuppa and she drove me all the way home, the kind love !; and then I did my usual in this fuckin horrible weather and got into my nighty and dressing-gown. Him up there ^ then strolled casually past my front window, causing frothing rage. Jumped up without giving a moment’s thought to my attire, grabbed my phone and leaped out the front door in hopes of seeing him ^ ‘go home’.
He never did; but he walked rapidly – can’t call it ‘running’ – from the Units to Bella Chara* and into some bushes there. Need I add that not only appeared around a corner an admin bloke whom I really like and admire, looking every inch the professional businessman; but very shortly our duo was augmented by a car driving up that contained the CEO, who is a woman I admire enormously and like commensurately. There we were, the three of us, chatting in friendly fashion about this bloody cat: Alwin in super winter coat, Joy in her car but without doubt as well-dressed as she always is, and me in my nighty and dressing-gown AND UGG BOOTS.
I could’ve died.
So there are two more disadvantages re living in MACS: (1) this goddam cat that will be making Lui’s and my life a misery unless we can trap him and make the Council take him to a cat thingy; and (2) the fact that if I’ve done my usual towards the end of the day in terms of ‘dress’, I am not to go outside no matter what.
*The part of MACS that’s for people who can’t be totally independent but aren’t so helpless as to need actual aged care