It took me five days to coax her out from underneath the neighbors' shrubs with a saucer of milk. I would leave it and then have to leave, she would drink it and then the process would start all over again. Finally she let me touch her and that started a life long bond.
Pussy Cat, until recently, was never a people cat. She was my cat. She had to stay outdoors because of cat allergies so she had no worries that my daughters were going to touch her. She didn't like my husband and since he wasn't cat friendly anyway, they were fine with that arrangement. When the grandsons came along and came thundering into the yard like a small herd of elephants, she could pull a disappearing act that rivaled Houdini.
Pussy Cat has outlived Lady, Emma, Bishop and Tommy Boy. Tommy Boy was her only true love. Even though he was neutered, he never missed the opportunity to jump her bones on occasion. Though she bellowed like a banshee, she must have gotten some enjoyment out of it because afterward he would lick her head and ears so I figured it was an even trade off.
Then Max, my little gray buddy, came along. She despised him from day one. He was way too frisky a cat for her taste and was always jumping out from some hidden spot scaring the cat poop out of her. Max mysteriously ended up four miles from home at a place in the country. He had been there for almost three months before I found him. I made the monumental decision to leave him there as he was quite happy and had a plethora of birds and small woodland creatures at his disposal, plus his new family loved him. I don't know how she did it, but I'm sure Pussy Cat paid someone a lot of cat chow to get rid of him.
Pussy Cat prefers the mulched path through my garden for a litter box rather than the always left open sand box that sits amid the sunflowers. My granddaughter appreciates this. She usually makes her way to the garden pond, like a lion to the watering hole, for her morning drink but since the seasons have changed she now prefers the smaller water tank that houses cattails and water lilies. She must have tired of the fish taunting her while she drank. It is said that animals have no sense of time like we do. That must attribute to the fact that a pet is as glad to see you whether you've been gone all day or two minutes, but you can set your watch by this cat. She is always at the food dish at 5 o'clock and it only takes her a couple of days to adjust to daylight savings time.
She has mellowed in her old age. She now lets the grandchildren pet her and on two occasions has set in a chair next to my husband. On these two occasions he has petted her. Either the world is about to end or Hell has frozen over, let's hope it is the latter.
I believe that much of her longevity stems from the fact that not only has she never smoked or taken to liquor, she has rarely left the yard. It is her sanctuary and her kingdom and now it is hers alone. She is the queen of the yard and can rule with her furry fist to her hearts' content. Long live the queen, long live Pussy Cat.
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