Ferreting about in the half-light of mid afternoon, I happen to glance out of the window and there, on the yard, is Pushkin mooching about and chasing dried leaves.  She barrels across from the barn and skitters underneath the car, peering out with a look of earnest concentration on her face.

With her ears flicking to catch any untoward sounds she heads for the wall and the little gate that is en route for the cats’ door into the house.  I don’t suppose she knows it is there but at least if she is exploring the vicinity that is a good thing.  I stand and watch her through the window and suddenly she freezes as she looks straight back at me.  I am not aware of having moved or made any noise but somehow she has sensed that she is being watched.  It seems a bit silly to wave at her, although I’d like her to know that it is me, her person with the food, and not a scary predator.  Pushkin stands stock still with her feet planted and I say ‘Hello Puss’ to the window in the hope that she might hear.  Finally, I turn away and on looking back a second later she has gone, doing that melting away trick that she is so good at.  Still, it was good to see her on the yard as it means she is getting ever more confident.  (Please click Read More below)

Postlude

During the early hours of New Year’s Day there comes a terrible yowling from somewhere behind the house.  It is a sort of screechy hum that eventually settles into a single note - a bit like a badly tuned viola.  It is definitely a cat noise but which cats I don’t know.  It is a long time since Ginge and Nigel have had a stand off and I suspect, were I to brave the cold and creep downstairs, Ginge would be tucked up beside the Aga.  Could it be that Pushkin has hopped the wall and encountered the amorous Nigel in the flesh?  If that is the case, I hope they quickly reach an agreement as to be woken in the pitch dark by such an unearthly noise is not a great joy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And a Happy New Year to you too, cats!

© Fell-Dweller