He was the runt of the litter, a gift, a grey ball of fluff; he sat mewing on my bed with a big yellow bow, bigger than himself around his neck. It was love at first sight. He was so small he fitted into my hand so I called him Dinkie (after the Dinkie Toy cars –called Matchbox Cars in some countries). Now he has a host of names, The Dink, Dinkleberry, My Boy, Dinx, Dinkles, Le Chat Noir, Fluffball and ‘you with the face’.
That first night he cried so pitifully, so he slept in the crook of my shoulder and ever since, he has slept on my bed. He starts off at my feet and sometime in the night he gradually moves up into the middle of the bed and stretches out his now considerable length up against me (no longer a Dinkie Toy but a Big Boy). I awake to find I am teetering on the edge of the mattress while he is sprawled right across the middle of the double bed and he has the gall to complain when he is picked him up and moved. We have this little routine at bedtime – he rushes in front of me into the bedroom and leaps onto the bed, and meows pitifully till he gets his cat treats – and then he has the bad manners to literally drool onto the counterpane while I am getting the packet out of the bedside cabinet. In summer he looks a bit scraggy as he sheds pounds of grey fur over everything in the house and vociferously objects to being brushed to remove the excess fur and prevent tangled lumps, while in winter, he puffs out to 3 times his size with all that extra furry insulating and looks like he is wearing plus fours when seen from behind
The Dink has travelled the continent with me – from Brisbane to Perth and back again to the Gold Coast, so now he hates the cat carrier and the car (which he loved as a young cat). He and I have moved house 5 times and everyone anticipates cat settling problems – no so – we move into the new home, he spend a couple of hours exploring the home and then I let him out to explore the yard – as long as I am there he is happy and settled, ne never wanders off. He is no longer as sociable with strangers since all the moves and he has become what I now call my ‘one woman cat‘, and lets face it, he is now 105 in cat years – an old man in essence, and as we all know, old men can be cranky beasts at the best of times.
Actually he is pretty well behaved and really good company. He acts more like a dog than a cat! So he may be a bit confused as to how a normal cat should behave. He comes when called, follows me from room to room (including to the toilet), sitting / lying as close to me as he can get (so I trip over him when I turn around) or he just loves to plonk himself on my open book, needlework, laptop or in my open suitcase if I try to do some packing for a trip. When I arrive home from work or late at night – he is there at the door to greet me as I open the car door – or while I unlock the garage door I can hear him calling me from the other side. As soon as I curl up on the couch to watch a TV programme, he is there, curled up against me as close as he can get. If I am ill in bed – he will spend every day curled on the bed with me. Naturally I just have to walk into the kitchen to be badgered for food and heaven forbid I drop a sock or stocking on the floor, I will only find it weeks later and it will most likely be pretty shredded by then. I love to watch him watching something through the window – he sits there riveted with ears pricked intently watching some unseen sight ,head and eyes flicking from side to side – it must be something very interesting I think, a melee, a murder, a police arrest – but alas, a disappointment – its nothing but an empty street! Dinkie has been a wonderful gift –he is company, another live entity in the home, he is vocal and reactive and very loving – he is My Boy, even if he is only a cat!
Who loves you?
©The Scottish Lady. This writer does not use any form of Social media, however she is a subsriber here, so she will read the comments you leave.
The writer of this piece is known to me (Jane) and I have to tell you he is not, only a cat. This is true love from both sides. He IS a one woman cat, and she is a one cat woman.
Next up (finally) is the 40 pound chicken story.