Still "strumpeting" - after all these years

Princess Pearli went walkabout. Early on Monday morning. It's not unusual. What was unusual was that she stayed away for more than 48 hours. That worried me.

I was particularly concerned because the house in which M & B lived is empty and up for sale. When B was alive, she'd go and "watch" the morning news with him and then proceed to spend the day terrorising their birdlife. When M was on her own, she still visited and kept her company. Now, though, M has moved away and to her children. Their house is empty and up for sale.

A necessary digression

It's spring and all the cats are a little excited. Even the neutered ones. That includes Gandalf which means that he's giving Pearli a hard time...ahem... The weather's also started warming and the nights haven't been quite so cold. Consequently, I know from years of practise that it's not unusual for her to wander off and stay away for a night or two. Usually she comes home. Especially after The Cats' Mother calls.

Not so this time. Then, when she'd wasn't home and snuggled up on the bed on the third night, I was really worried. After The Husband and losing Rambo about a month later (I'll tell that story in due course)...I couldn't...

Anyway.

We have a community Facebook group and I was hopefully desperate, so I posted this:

Princess Pearli, aka the Smith St Strumpet, has not been home for two nights. If you see her, please DM me and send her home to The Sandbag House. Distinguishing characteristics: small with yellow eyes and a damaged ear.

The agent selling M & B's house responded that she'd seen her there and promised to go and see if she'd got herself locked in. She hadn't.

But

The person who holds the keys to the house and who runs a guest house across the road messaged me to say that the Princess had been languishing there. Since Monday. And has taken to visiting. Often. She'd let me know if she spied her.

Later that same morning, K sent me this photo:

Yes, the Smith Street Strumpet, aka Princess Pearli, sunning herself and waiting for her elevenses.

Elevenses she could have - and lunch, and supper and any meal she pleased. As long as it was at home. I jumped in my car, headed up the road and, guess what?

She'd vacated her spot, but heard my voice and appeared from a flowerbed with a surprised, and purring, "Hello! What are you doing here?"

After a short natter with K (a relatively new arrival in the village) about cats' lives and ruminating on the joys of being cats' mothers, I scooped up the Princess, plonked her in the car and headed home.

She skipped up the garden path, headed in. And then out again.

She didn't immediately sit down to her elevenses, because in typical feline fashion, she would do it in her own time.

She did, eventually. Much to my relief because, also much to my relief, K had advised me that she didn't feed Pearli. And wouldn't. And will not.

She didn't leave home. No, she took up residence on my desk. On the spot designated for felines. Mostly her, and in his day, Rambo. She clearly wasn't entirely enthralled with me because this was her posture.

She did forgive me. Eventually.

Later that evening, I found her curled up on my freshly washed jersey. Happy as Larry. Even later, I woke up to find her wanting to creep under the covers and snuggle with The Cats' Mother.

Evidently, I'd been forgiven and she was happy to be home. Or, more realistically, she was just cold.

Oh, and if you're wondering, K's assured me she'll keep an eye on Pearli and has also invited me to check in - in the unlikely even that the Strumpet heads up to that end of Smith Street for another mid-week break - without informing The Cats' Mother. After all, why should Princess Pearli, at ten, change her habits now?

Until next time
Fiona
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa

Photo: Selma
Post script

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