The Further Adventures of Morticia Part II

Himself is nothing if not melodramatic.

Last night as I blogged and he worked, Morticia purred contentedly on my lap. In a flash, she heard the door open and was off my lap. I didn't worry too much, after all, I assumed he had closed the door and the gap between his exit and her departure from my knee seemed lengthy enough....

After a few minutes he came back in and I looked briefly around.
"Did she make it out the door then?" I ventured, seeing that she was nowhere to be seen.
"What?" Himself demanded.
"Morticia. Did she make it out the door? She doesn't seem to be in here."
"Did she go outside?" he stared at me incredulously,"Well, that's it! She's dead then isn't she? She will have gone over the balcony!!!"

At this point he started noisily looking around the house for her. I began to point out that she probably wouldn't be dead but might indeed be heading for The Gorge but he seemed too upset to pay me much attention. Instead, as he thundered about the place opening cupboards and calling for her; I put the light on and went out onto the balcony.

Of course, there she was. It wasn't, however, as simple as that. She had sensed freedom and also that the edge of the balcony was the escape route. She had also sensed that the edge of the balcony held some strange unnerving danger in the pitch dark so she was running about sticking her head under the rails and withdrawing to look for further options. Of course, eventually she would work out that at one end of the balcony there is a tree which is not too much of a leap and would probably hold her weight but I wanted to delay this Epiphany for as long as possible.

There ensued your classic cat and mouse game. I called her and approached, she approached and retreated as soon as I put out my hand. After remaining deliberately calm and talking to her in a soothing fashion for about 2 minutes I managed to grab her as she hung her head over the edge of the balcony nearest to the tree. As I brought her in Himself gaped in disbelief.

"Where did she come from?"

"She was out on the balcony."

"Unbelievable! I was sure she was dead. Bloody cat."

I suspect to Himself she will always be 'Bloody Cat' but I also suspect that there is a deep, visceral connection there. So deep that he, for one, will not admit it!!!

Later last night we had the Big Cat v Small Cat stand off again. We do not seem to be making any inroads here at all. I sat Pippin on my lap (he's HUGE) and brushed him while he kept up a monotonous, low level growl; reminiscent of a jaguar or bobcat. He seemed quite happy to be brushed if body language was anything to go by but his vocal display made it quite clear that he was not letting down his guard for one minute. Eventually I tried to get around to his front with the brush but he promptly bit me and exited. Stage left even.

Tish just does not get that he doesn't want to play! We will persevere.