Snowy

Snowy

It's been weeks now, since we last saw Snowy - the cat who started coming round to see us regularly, waiting by the back door, his/her little nose pressed up against the cat flap, expecting (and getting) as many square meals a day as he - or she - wanted. 

We definitely don't like being "cat-less," and since we lost both Blackie and Pushkin, apart from seeing the Ginger Tom in the garden occasionally - whom we know is owned by folks in a house down the road - we have missed having a loving cat around. 

In spite of his feral nature, we hoped that, over time, Snowy might become more tame. After  all, when Mum first became acquainted with Pushkin and Tiddlywinks, they were also semi-feral, but would allow Mum to stroke them - at first, only momentarily, before they would pull away, but later on, a bit more willingly. I remember a time when they were unwell, and we had a home visit from the vet; he diagnosed them both with cat flu, and prescribed medication for them. Pushkin would take her tablet in with her dinner, but for Tiddlywinks I could wrap each pill in a piece of ham (only the best, of course!) and she would take the "ham and pill parcel" from my hand! 

That didn't last, because over yet more time, Tiddlywinks never got any friendlier, but Pushkin did, eventually becoming very much a house pussycat, happy to be loved and cuddled on a lap.  Pushkin was also the one who would throw herself at my feet whilst I settled down to the ironing; that was when I knew she was waiting for me to take my slippers off, and use my toes to tickle her ears. What a strange, unique cat she was! and a very lady-like cat, who could hold her own against Blackie. 

Blackie, of course, was a different personality altogether; very vocal, very demanding, with an "I'M HERE!" personality; he was a cat who could not be ignored. He was the cat who arrived "from nowhere," and although he was very nervous at first, he quickly decided we were definitely his people, and we counted ourselves lucky to be chosen as his family. 

Without Blackie and Pushkin, the house seems empty, and we had been nursing hopes that Snowy might one day decide to stay with us on a more permanent basis. Quite possibly these were forlorn hopes, because Snowy, from the first time he condescended to accept food from us, was in a constant state of nervousness, and ready for immediate flight. He had started to come in over the kitchen threshold, and eat his dinner in the kitchen - always with the door open, of course, allowing him a swift retreat when he felt the need to flee! - but we hoped he would also feel safe with us, and know he could relax eating "just indoors." When he ate his food on the step, he was always looking round anxiously, for any perceived danger. 

There were also occasions when Snowy would be just inside the kitchen, sitting on the mat, and looking out on the patio; in that position I'm sure he felt safe, and that we were guarding his back!  Sometimes he'd sit on one of the patio chairs, or the bench, and soak up some sun, and have a wash, or else be snoozing in the little cat house, also on the patio. He would lie in that, right at the very back, so at first glance you could not see he was there, but then, on a longer look, you could the splash of white on his paws as he was curled up, and think he must be happy and comfortable, dry and warm - and hope he felt safe. 

Sometimes Snowy would come round 3 - or even on occasion 4! - times a day, and very clearly hungry; we would wonder where he had been, as he could get through two or three sachets at a sitting! and then afterwards he might go and sit on the trellis over the fishpond and watch the fish swimming underneath the water. 

Even though we haven't seen him or such a long while now - it's been weeks - we still don't want to abandon hope, and wonder if perhaps he has been locked in somewhere; but we can't help but start to think we may not see him again. We are keeping him in our thoughts. 

Such a very particular cat!

The white flashes of Snowy's fur made us think he had just climbed out of a snowdrift...

Safe, inside the kitchen