Monday, September 02, 2013
The wonderful thing about tiggers
It took me a long time to get anywhere near this cat. I don’t know her real name or even if she is a she. "Tigger" was what sprung to mind when I saw the stripes. The first time I saw her she was pretending to stalk the hens in the yard across the road. Needless to say the cock was keeping a careful eye on her. On our evening walks we’d find her sat looking down on us from a high wall in the fading light, just like the Cheshire cat in Alice.
The first time I found her in the garden she was lying in the shade of the clothes horse on a hot day. At first I was not allowed to go near her, but over time she got used to me. I’m allowed to stroke her head while she talks to me in her whiney voice; she doesn’t have a normal cat mew. Then she’ll roll over and squirm around showing me her fluffy tummy which I am not allowed to touch.
When I go back indoors my last sight of her is of a majestic queen sat up straight with her tail neatly wrapped around her front paws.