Elgar is mine! *

This evening I went to pick up Elgar. That was weird. This cat I’ve been pondering for two years finally being handed over to my care, my loco parentis *. And he was good as gold. He didn’t make a peep on the taxi ride to Will‘s, even though the cab was very heavily air-freshened and his little nose must have been overloaded. He just kept looking around with his big, big yellow eyes. Once ‘home’, he spent about ten minutes hiding under and behind things, before deciding to have an explore and a sniff and then to sit on the sofa and curl up with his paws in my lap and have a purr. I think we’re going to get on just fine…

Whatever is was that he liked about me, he must still do – it’s ridiculous to think he could remember me from two years ago, but he kept looking up at me with that happy, sleepy blinking that cats do. He’s just gorgeous. Big and black with the odd white hair, a big fat bum and a flabby belly, enormous yellow eyes and a lovely shapely round head, and a slightly lopsided mouth where there’s a small bit of his lower lip missing (something that happened when he was living as a stray, perhaps?) So full of character and cat-ness.

And then I come home and am confronted with this photo of Felix as my PC desktop. Oh, the guilt…

Actually, while I’m here – a horrible story from Cats which demonstrates why places like the Centre need to exist. Sometime this afternoon, a man came in with a zipped-up wheelie suitcase which contained four cats and a shoebox full of newborn kittens. In this heat. And they’d come on the tube – in a wheelie suitcase, being banged up and down stairs, along the pavement… the kittens were practically dead but the staff managed to revive them all. My god, those cats had been neglected. It does make me angry.

* Technically, of course, Elgar is not my entire responsibility yet. He is mine in the sense that he’s been signed over to me, but given that he’s living at his Uncle Will’s – not so much.


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