Charlie arrived with blanket, an over-washed teddy/doll/whatever, neither of which would he touch, and a couple of useless toys. I suppose the items were to make him feel at home rather than play with but I’ll never know the answer to that. I was also given a spray that would minimise his anxiety, but he plays or uses anything I’ve bought him and only occasionally shows a sign of being anxious. My view is that the blanket etc reminded him too much of the place where he was locked in a cage. Little wonder he didn’t want to know. I’ve told him people only wanted what was best for him but he doesn’t understand. Freedom is what he wanted more than anything, freedom plus someone to give him food and hugs.
We’ve had our moments but not once have I felt the urge to use the tranquillising spray. Not even when I suffered a deep scratch in the space between thumb and finger. Ouch, it hurt, and blood flowed quite freely. I gave Charlie an immediate sharp tap from which I think he took on board that I was no pushover. We were, of course, getting used to each other’s ways which thankfully only took a couple of days. We are now firm friends.
On the third night he stayed out. Oh my goodness that was a worry ... I had broken the rules set by the RSPCA that he should NOT be let out of the house for two weeks. Two weeks? Two days was enough for both Charlie and me. There was no response to calling and all I could do was worry. I didn’t sleep much that night, but at around two o’clock in the morning I heard a pitiful cry at the back door. I don’t think I have ever moved so fast but oh the relief to see him there and in one piece, too. You can tell my mind had run riot. The rest of the night he slept on the chair at the side of my bed and now that spot has become his nightly (when he’s in) sleeping place. To ease the situation though I have had a cat flap fitted in the outside door. It’s one way to guarantee I get some sleep.
One of the funniest sights so far was seeing Charlie running hell-for-leather after a squirrel. I didn’t know either animal could move so fast. Readers to this blog will know how hard I have tried to stop squirrels eating ALL the bird food so they will appreciate the feeling of satisfaction I had when I saw my Charlie chasing the squirrel. Go, boy, go.
Another amusing incident was the day I had some pork loin for tea. I buy cooked meat for sandwiches and this is my favourite. It starts off as a roll of pork loin coated with sea salt and black pepper, then sliced and packed. I love it. What amazed me was that Charlie loves it as well. I haven’t given him any but he tries very hard to stop me taking a bite. I usually end up laughing but I haven’t given in. I’m not sure the pork is good for a little pussy cat, even if he does like the smell, but I am of the firm opinion that he shouldn’t have ANY of MY food. If he does, it might be me needing the tranquilliser spray!