Jambalaya
Today was cat visiting day.
TL:DR version: we’re getting a cat, hopefully next week.
Full length version: mum spent all morning worrying about whether getting a cat was the right thing to do, whether she would embarrass herself or me by saying something stupid, and whether her headache would prevent her from going at all.
I suggested that, if she didn’t come with me, I would come home with six cats. Mum knew I was joking, but still decided it was best to come with me, just in case.
She spent pretty much the whole taxi ride complaining that we were going so far from home. I thought that was a mum thing, but several other people commented on how far we had travelled, in the tones you would use when running into your next door neighbour in, say, Tunisia.
People on the Isle of Wight really do have their own, personal scale of distance. (For people not familiar with the Island, it’s about 20 miles. I used to drive further than that to work every day.)
The staff at Cats Protection made us very welcome, even when mum and I got hopelessly distracted by two adorable, innocent-looking kittens who are apparently, in the words of our guide, “total chaos agents”. (The guide said I could snuggle one on our way out, but sadly they’d both fallen asleep, worn out from hours of mischief, so I left without any kitten cuddles. 😥)
The centre staff had selected a cat that they thought might be right for us, but further discussion threw up another option: Smokey, a 12 year old sweetie who’s feeling rather lost and nervous since losing her human. We were warned that she would hiss at us “but doesn’t really mean it”. She did indeed hiss, and huddle inside her little house, so I leant on the wall of her pen and moved my hand very, verrry slowly closer until she could sniff me.
One sniff and a head-bomp later, I was tickling her under her chin. Her legs gave way and she rolled onto her back, purring until she dribbled1. Then I stepped back and mum repeated the process with the same result. Mum’s eyes filled with tears of joy at having found a friendly feline, and the deal was sealed.
We went off to do the required paperwork, then I sneaked back to take some photos of our new moggy. As her pen door was shut again, Smokey-puss gave me a look of such betrayal that my heart cracked a little. I told her I would come back for her as soon as the vet gives her clearance (she’s currently being treated for a UTI, which I thought was quite appropriate given mum’s problems), but she didn’t understand and mewed pitifully as I walked away. 😭
And now it’s your turn. We don’t want to keep the name Smokey, as mum had a cat of that name as a kid and she doesn’t need any more sources of confusion, but I’m not sure what her new name should be. Something similar in sound, maybe? Or something food related, because of this blog?
All suggestions either in the comments or on the Facebook page, please.
After being out two days in a row I’m utterly exhausted, so an easy meal would have been… well, easy. But I found myself craving jambalaya so, just for once, I made the meal I wanted rather than what mum would like.
Mum said it was too spicy – and, to be fair, it was a bit hotter than I intended – but she ate 95% of her serving anyway. I practically inhaled my half, and enjoyed every bite.
Smokey, or whatever her new name will be, will have to go in the kitchen when she arrives next week, as we don’t have a spare room where she can stay. I have therefore planned some very easy meals for next week, and have splashed out on a new cat tower with a box she can hide in, and if you think I’m very excited about our new arrival then you would be entirely correct.
Soon, Smokey-puss, soon!
- Which some people would hate, but my last cat was a dribbler and I think it’s adorable. ↩︎
Is it pineapple sponge today? 