I have been at work, then discussing how to make my money give me more than 1.5% without investing in things that may be exploitative and environmentally dubious, then out again. But I made pit stops and am with NotCat in the rather breezy garden writing this on the iPad while the sky puts on a wonderful display. I am using Blogsy for the first time, writing offline, and I don’t know how the picture insertion bit works. So I may have to add that later.
But I didn’t mean to write about the sky, or about ethical investments which are not high risk and which my adviser did not find. I have a stray ginger cat on my mind.
After a fairly full on weekend of Ginger, there’s been no sign of him today. I am hoping he is going to show up again, because the plan is to get him to the vet who will give him a check up and give him the snip. I managed to get some Frontline on him on Friday, so even though he has not had the advantage of thorough brushing, his flea problem, assuming he had one, is being addressed. Once neutered the rehoming process can begin.
I am rather hoping that the vet, who has a predilection for gingers, will fall in love with him and adopt him. She would very much like a practice cat again, and none of her present cats has the temperament for the job. The late and lovely Ging (sic, it was the name on his tag when she adopted him) was a practice cat par excellence. A gentle giant, he dwarfed Cat. He had a little bed in the waiting room where he would greet and be greeted by all and sundry. He did not discriminate against species. Cat intimidated him from inside his caddy, taking an unnecessarily aggressive approach that was entirely in character. The vet was possibly the one human Cat thoroughly disliked. He never really forgave her for the first time she took his temperature or administered, with the help of myself, a vet nurse and a bath towel, his worming tablets.
The vet would explain, using Ging as a live model, the various procedures she was going to carry out, or how to give ear drops, about which I was somewhat sceptical. Ging would purr throatily, lapping up the attention, not at all worried about things Cat would have taken as an assault on his person. Ging’s photograph presides over the consulting room to this day, and the vet styles her practice The Home of the Ginger Cat.
I admit I have a fondness for Ginger. I have even given him a new name. Well three names actually, one of which is after a famous traveller, but whether I could cope with two cats in a one bedroom flat is debatable. I could move, which might improve the space issue, but it seems a bit drastic. Some neighbours would probably get on their high horses too. There is a clause in our leases about pets not being a nuisance. One cat might be ok, two might not be tolerated.
This morning when I woke up, NotCat was stretched almost the full width of the bed. As I don’t have lots of rooms where I could shut them off, I can imagine a scenario with two comfortable cats and one uncomfortable me. And let’s not start on the love life. The sofa would be as bad if not worse. Not for the love life, though actually that is probably true, but for sharing. Either I’d be imprisoned by two furry boys who wanted attention, or relegated to a subservient position on the floor while they slumbered. Don’t even bother talking to me about cat beds. I have two. They could be sold as hardly used.
How about the litter tray? If NotCat uses it at night, I can wait until morning to change it. But with two cats, would that mean two litter trays in the bathroom or second cat meowing at me for a fresh place to pee? On the boat two litter trays would be impractical. Would they share?
Too late now to go into all the issues, but the fact hat I am thinking about them gives me away. Yes, I am tempted, depending on whether NotCat would be happy with a new brother. Ginger reminds me of Cat in his profile and build, though he has a thinner coat and a skinnier tail.
Really he is like a cross between Cat and NotCat. He has got under my skin. He is a sweet boy who needs a home where he will be well cared for, loved and happy.
And this is all new territory for me. Cat had zero tolerance for other cats. The question of adopting another cat while he was alive did not arise. But NotCat has a more open approach to his fellow felines, as does Ginger.
I don’t know. Maybe I can try fostering him and see if it works out. Maybe the vet will fall in love with him. Maybe I’ll never see him again. But it is late now. I need to get NotCat inside and make tracks for bed.