Cuddling With Tigger.

Old and graceful.

Funny how in her old age she has taken to me. When she hears the car coming up the driveway she sprints in her old gait along side it and throws googly eyes at me. Me or the food that I give her. Tigger, our original cat, the cat whose house we moved into.

She still has feral traits but we must have rubbed off on her because she loves sleeping in soft blankets, baskets or her own handmade cat-house. It took us years before we got a chance to stroke her. Only at feeding times and only with slow movements. But we felt so rewarded for even the littlest of affections from our feral cat.

The last few weeks she has galloped to her food bowl when I came to it laden with cat delicacies, only to stop and demand a cuddle before eating. Have you ever? Trying to get her used to being picked up, I have picked her up carefully under her belly and lifted her up towards my knees whilst taking baby gibberish. Bob and mum thought I was a nutter but Tigger adored it in her own way. She did the infamous figure of eight cat circle around my feet.

This morning, after my walk I went into her abode and sat at the floor. At first she wasn't too sure what I was up to but then she edged on over and rubbed her head against my leg. I picked her up and sat her into my lap, not knowing how she would react or if I would be scratched. Well, after a few seconds of being unsure, she settled into my lap and let herself be cosseted by me. It was so divine, and something Bob and I would have loved for her to do when we first arrived.

Unfortunately she is of an age where she forgets to go to the lavatory and thus wouldn't be able to live with us inside. Not to mention the jealous Miss Mausi. As for Tigger, she will be spoiled rotten until she heads for the pearly gates...

Biggi