So far she’s hidden next to the fridge, on the floor behind the curtain, on the windowsill behind the curtain and on the windowsill behind the fridge, sneaky little bugger, but my word, she’s beautiful. I haven’t taken a picture yet because I don’t want to frighten her with the flash, but you can see hints of Abyssinian, tabby and calico in her. Plus she’s wearing mascara and brown eye liner and has Dana’s white tuxedo shirt and fingers. I am humbled, as I am before great art.
On the other hand, it hadn’t really dawned on me exactly what we’ve taken on. No doubt her parents were domestic, but their people are most likely gone, and Kitty was born feral. She’s only been an inside cat since March. She had already been adopted once but was returned; the people were older and couldn’t deal with her running around all night. For the time being, at least, we can keep her locked in the living room/kitchen where she can tear around all night if she wants and we won’t hear it. I’ve already forgiven her for whatever damage she causes.
Volunteer lady said again and again that we can return her if we can’t handle her, but I have already promised both myself and the universe to love her, and I feel as strongly about that as I do about never smoking again.
As Maria sings so beautifully in The Sound of Music, I have confidence in me. Let the games begin.