Wednesday, April 03, 2013

It's a Cat's Life

I am often asked by you, dear readers, and members of the public (ok, I exaggerate): How is Molly the Cat?

Since we adopted the hairy, world-famous bundle of love from the Rydges Plaza Hotel pub, it's safe to say she's settled into luxury villa life in Satwa pretty well. 

When she's not snoozing, she's toe-washing. When she's not toe-washing she's eating. When she's not eating she's get the picture.

We've become firm friends: where I go, she goes (unless she's sleeping in a cupboard like the dead). She's a little (ok, slightly rotund) black shadow at my side, which has led to a few unfortunate incidents where she's almost been stepped on - and let's not speak of the time she ricocheted off my leg onto the side of the fridge in a mad scamper to the biscuit bowl, yeah?!

Despite her life of complete luxury and pampering she still exhibits some street-cat tendencies. Mainly when alley cats stray into our garden. Then she becomes a hissing, spitting, Jeremy Kyle version of the princess we know and love. She's still Molly from the block!

When I noticed an index finger sized bald spot on her neck I was bereft. What kind of bad mother am I that I didn't notice that her collar had been rubbing her so badly? The offending collar was swiftly removed and she's been butt-naked for the last few weeks whilst the spot heals. 

Note to social services: She doesn't seem to hold a grudge and has been her usual sweet self as of late. I do have a lot of love in my heart for that funny lump of fur.
Sometimes it all gets too much for a girl. Close the curtains please!

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