So, yeah, I got a cat. While 40,000 other people lined up to watch Roger Waters, I went armed with a pink plastic picnic basket and a bottle of wine to pick up the kitten. (And as gesture of gratitude, I should mention the cat is formerly her property, but I went with this
guy to pick her up. Much appreciated, btw.) Anyway. The Cat was not happy about being bundled into a picnic basket. She was caught, not without quite a fight I might add, as she scampered away and hid under beds and couches and everything and her mother appeared looking so sad and so accusing, that I nearly cried. Finally, the cat was caught, and we took her back home, where she hid under a cupboard, yowling every now and then and we finished the bottle of wine, that had been sent back with us. Good wine.
This morning, there were two favourable accomplishments. One, is that the litter box had been used after just one gentle reminder. Another was that she finally deigned to eat something, and when I went down on my stomach and yanked her out from underneath the cupboard she looked happy to see me and we spent the next hour getting acquainted, with her butting her head on my legs and entwining herself around me and general cat affection. Then she explored the house, letting out experimental yowls, waited for me to lift her onto the windowsill where she stayed for some time, and then the construction noises started and all my good work was undone because she rolled her eyes at me, thinking surely, I can't trust this woman for an instant and then took off to yowl under the cupboard. Now she's stopped. I think (hope) she's fallen asleep.
So, after much debating last night, her name finally came to me around 3.30 in the morning, I think, as I was stuffing a pillow over my head to block out her sounds. Her name is tc (note the lower case, this is a cummings type cat) tc for the cat and, duh, for turquoise cottage. I think it's a pretty cool name in a double-meaningy sort of way. tc could mean so many things—tangerine coloured, total chaos, tummy crawler, you get the picture. And it's a nice sort of name for a cat.
"So, the cat," I said to her this morning as she attacked my toes, "It's not such a bad world after all, now is it?"
"Aieou," said the cat, "aieou, aieou."
Hey, at least she knows her vowels.