Waiting for Miss Purr-fect

There’s something to be said for a broken routine. It’s disconcerting and throws things out of balance not to mention the out-of-sortness that feeds the growing edginess. It’s been four weeks now. First I waited impatiently, then I tried waiting patiently.

This was the story four weeks ago.
Three weeks on- me and feral cat, Miss Purr-fect, self-instituted resident at the hotel we currently call Home, have struck up a taciturn friendship as breakfast companions. I’m convinced she’s been taking note of the time I appear for my breakfast feed although I’ve never been able to figure out the mystery of an animal’s punctuality. If she doesn’t appear as if by magic when I’ve sat down, I stroll over to the hedge and call for her. Often she’s taken the hidden paths known only to creatures of her height. Who me?- she questions me with her eyes, stopping in her tracks. Come on over to my table if you want to, I say to her, returning to my seat. She trails behind me but is always sure to keep that little distance between us as her feral wisdom dictates.

Now that we’ve got the best table, what’s the best thing for breakfast? I run through my mental list of the spread, familiarised through 21 days of the same with some token variation thrown in now and then. Least I misrepresent the efforts and standard of the hotel, I must add that there is ample variety (though repeated) and quantity provided. I’ve offered Purr-fect the sausages and ham which are often rejected. Perhaps that explains her svelte silhouette. Not the processed food, please. Ok I get it- you Cat, me Slave. Back to the buffet table to fetch her other temptations. I take her advice anyway and follow suit- give the lovely processed food preservatives a miss. We concur on the freshly prepared options which we both wolf down in respectable portions.

I settle down to read a chapter over a coffee while she attends to her grooming, missing a grubby patch at the kink of her tail, I noted. I know some catty ways too!

I decide we’ve been acquainted long enough to attempt to give her a fond scratch under the chin. Do NOT touch me, she hisses emphatically and uses her claws in punctuation. Feral cats DO NOT subscribe to caresses, she reminds me. Another reminder from her to keep to the boundaries within mutual respect.

And so we sit in silence together, warmed by the morning sun, enjoying this taciturn relationship for all its routine. What could be more perfect!

Purrfect's breakfast later includes fresh fish picked off the beach, courtesy of the fishermen who have no interest in the juveniles snagged in their nets.

-----That was four weeks ago. We were away from the hotel for two weeks in between and she hasn’t made her appearance since. I can only hope that it was all over a territorial dispute with another cat and not some more unfortunate fate. Perhaps she has found another home by now. Such is the fragility, and heartache, of attempting to build a relationship with feral animals. For that moment in time we attempt to understand each other and I hope, find some connection, maybe affection and mutual respect.

For me it is also a clear and good reminder that we do not always call the shots and that is not always a bad thing. The issue of control, as many reinforcements in our lives might support us to believe otherwise, is not the most important achievement. This may be as Good As It Gets, and there is Much and Enough in itself.

-----Just this week, waiting for Miss Purrfect, another little one has turned up. We’ve nicknamed her Smarty Pants as she displays no fear strutting her way around at breakfast time. An altogether different character to get to know, hardly feral. I have a new breakfast companion and I enjoy the pleasure while I can, remembering Miss Purrfect and how transient many things are.