So, she's still with us, obviously. A fighter. That's the feral bit. I don't mean as in fisticuffs, but in existence.
She has started to come to me more. Wants to be near..but not too near. Always on her terms. She has this cute little trill. Half miaow, half Rrrrrrrrr. Gets me every time..and the other mogs tolerate her...almost protectively. There are plenty of soft surfaces to lie and relax on here, but she prefers the wooden floorboards or laminate or floor tiles. Tough as old boots.
She nags for England. Miaow, miaow, miaow..trill...... For food, milk...anything. My little 'Why am I miaowing?' alzheimer mog. xx
Ah, yes. Sweet and lovely little elderly Darthy. Shits at the drop of a hat. Nine times out of ten, not in the cat litters........sigh........AND...her sister, Spooky, is nearly as bad. A portly mog. Cantankerous...so the others give her 'what for'. Spook's another fighter, though. Toughie. x
I have just fed the mogs, again. They have all retired to comfy beddings. Darthy is asleep....flat out on the laminate flooring! Snoring away. Bless.