He is truly a Prince of Cats.
And I say this despite the fact that he wanted me to get up and let him roam around at three in the morning.
Before last night, I had been thinking that maybe Mother would come to visit Cat in the guest room, where he could feel safe and secure.
This morning when I moved to the door, he followed me. It was a lot noisier than last night, and he started to have second thoughts a few yards along the corridor, but he didn’t protest when I picked him up and carried him down to Mother’s flat. She was delighted to see him.
He was round eyed and scared; ignoring us, looking for dark corners to hide in. Maybe it was because Mother kept calling him a dog. I put a note on the door so that the carers would know he was there.
I told Mother that if we were calm and quiet he would settle.
She sat on the sofa and followed him with her eyes.
I broke the calm when he leapt onto the kitchen counter. It’s designed to accommodate people in wheelchairs so lower than most, but it’s years since he’s jumped on the counter at home. My “No!” was probably heard across the county. It worked anyway.
Sure enough he soon started to make himself at home. I’m sure he recognised Mother’s smell. He stayed at her old house a lot. When he jumped up and sat beside her on the sofa, she beamed.
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