Lilli-Puss is Back!

Something amazing and really, really scary has happened. Lilli-Puss, my grey cat, went missing six years ago. Six years. Last night a letter was popped into my letter box. Lilli is at the SPCA. The rather unfriendly generic note uses the words 'liable', 'required' and 'urgent', and quotes the Disposal of Animals Act. Eek!

 My lovely cat companion.
Silly Lilli-Puss

So here I am next morning, off to collect her, and (I admit) in a bit of a worry-bubble. Lilli-Puss was the sweetest cat. My concern is that she's been living feral and rough for the last six years. Six years! Not possible, surely? She was picked up 30 kilometers away, on the other side of a wide braided river. I know cats can swim (and run across bridges), but not across this river!

 The blackbirds love to eat these.

Not so tranquil...

My house and property has not been so tranquil these last days. Water blasterers, roof painters - then yesterday a team of muddy-booted men removing the scaffolding. I apologised to my garden and dogs and went out. Sorry about that. The men are back today. My dogs are unsettled, barking madly. Oh heck! And Lilli-Puss! Oh my goodness. So scary.

Much later...

Rather an emotional day. Picked Lilli up, paid the bill, took her straight to my vet, burst into tears. My vet gave her the OK, came home and shut her (Lilli, not the vet) in my sewing room. Popped in there just now to say hello. She came out of hiding - eventually - did a small smooch, and gave a quiet purr. So she's friendly, able to be handled, but extremely shy. Does she remember me? Don't think so.

Next day...

Lilli-Puss is settled in, taking her medicine, eating well, and using her litter tray. But she seems a little disengaged with her new life, and with her strange new chin-tickler (me). As she was in the beginning, when she was a wild little kitten being slowly socialised in the upstairs spare room. Crikey! The circle of life, for sure.

 Here she is. Six years later!
Lilli-Puss is Back!

The men are here again today, clumping all over the roof. I've been barrowing horse manure over to the new Azalea garden, wishing that the men would stop clumping, pack up their stuff, and just go away. I miss my peaceful house. And guess who has just arrived and parked up in the front paddock? The hedge trimmer! Aargh!


I've spread all the horse manure. I've collected some kindling wood and lit the log-burner. I've taken Winnie for a ten minute walk. I've given Lilli her tea and hopefully stopped Red Fred from pouncing on his brother. The men have gone, but they'll be back. It's like painting a never-ending roof. Isn't there a bridge somewhere that is always being painted?