The new Queen of the Realm

Mixie

So, I went to Ireland for a pre-booked holiday, did drink Guiness, saw much of Ireland having lost my Sophie puss. I returned to an empty house but with the promise of a rescued cat from the RSPCA. I was presented with a scruffy little female who liked her tummy tickled and was on the way to recovery after some il treatment by her former owners. Because of her colour I named her Mixie, a name she totally ignores, and prepared for a long period of "getting to know you".

That was July 4th and now in November she is looking good, plays happily, is well fed and ruling the roost. Sucker.

But the thing is that I have given a home to a three year old cat who may not have lasted much longer. She is, like most cats, a good companion, demanding of attention and cranky. She fights me, attacking my proffered hand with sharp claws which she remembers to sheath now and then, demands treats and does all the things that a cat will do.

That she will not replace Sophie as "my kitten" is a point that I can argue is as true as the fact that Sophie did not replace Toots in the same way - Toots was the semi-feral cat I had as a familiar in New Zealand - but she will make her own impact on me.

She already has.

The sudden excited rush to roll over for a tummy tickle and the tenacious adherence to my lap is witness to that. The preening and grooming she does is a sign that she is content; the result being a cute looking fluffy cat with a pleased look that turns to begging for treats.

But mostly it is the way she now follows me around much of the time and loves to play at throw and fetch when a bunched up newspaper sheet is thrown for her to chase.

I like that.

She is helping to ease the memory of Sophie who lived with me for eighteen and a half years, years I can hardly forget. But welcome Mixie - come take your place.