Our Pussycat Doll

Ginger challenged us from the day she arrived here as a shriveled, weak kitten with a dull fur coat, a fraidy-cat who had a particular dislike of people in general. I wasn’t even sure she’d survive whatever happened to her when she became separated from her mother. There she was, slinking around our barn door and looking like she hadn’t had a good feed ever. So quick thinking husband threw his overshirt over her and began feeding her in the barn from then on. Weeks passed without any confirmation from her that she was even going to live here permanently. But we knew she had no other place to go where she’d get regular meals and she was way too young and too vulnerable to fend for herself. So, little by little, John patiently coaxed her out of her hidey hole in the messy barn. And little by little, she learned to trust him. And eventually what looked like a skinny, semi-comatose muskrat came out of self-imposed seclusion, which for her, was a big deal.

I’ve always reckoned that there’s more to the story that we don’t know about from perhaps a feral life to survive or perhaps being thrown out of the blissful warmth of her mama’s embrace a month or two earlier than most kitties. But whatever happened to her would certainly take a good bit of grit to get herself here. Wondered if her mother cat was killed or if there were people that just couldn’t be bothered with another litter of hungry babies depleting the mother. But the most likely scenario for me is that the mother was a stray and probably didn’t have regular meals herself and perhaps that played a huge part in the separation of this tender little feline with her so prematurely.

Whatever the case may be, Ginger still has trust issues with humans, most notably me. And although I can feed her the delicacies that she craves, like the fresh fried eggs that I make her sometimes in a little frying pan that must have the yolk runny and whites slightly undercooked, or the smoked salmon or cooked meats that we eat and share--- yet despite all that, Ginger, our queen of the cottage, only comes to me if John, her steady boyfriend, is not available. When he is around, she is often Velcro-ed to him and stares at him lovingly in appreciation of all he did for her those years ago when she turned up so unexpectedly in our world. So, if anyone thinks that animals aren’t smart enough to know who saved them, then they’ll have to think again about this little velvety friend who follows John inside and out like a lovestruck puppy dog. While I try to lure her with culinary delights, all she really wants is to cuddle with John, who has obviously imprinted on her most dramatically as her surrogate parent.

I somehow got a good shot of her asleep cradled in the nest of cushions and blankets on her throne we created for her queenly comforts, where she stayed for hours. I never actually had another cat like this. Usually, I’m the preferred person in the house since I feed them much more often. But that’s okay as the other two male cats prefer me although John has been doing more sitting around than usual in this freezing winter and so now, even they are nestling up to him more when Ginger isn’t around.

Go figure.