Washing Day With Ginger Girl

Our somewhat wild but somewhat domesticated cat, Ginger, Is full of surprises. She came here as a tiny kitten that had somehow been separated from her mother. Perhaps she still looks for her long lost parent on her sojourns she takes every so often, when she leaves home for close to a week. We never know where she is until we hear her come back in through our cat door in the middle of the night. She has been a real enigma for me especially since all of my other female felines enjoyed a much more peaceful kittenhood and so were quite content to just stay home. But judging by her appearance when we first spotted her around our barn, she was a half-starved and scruffy little thing with a dull fur coat that seemed to be in dire need of some comfort and security, not to mention regular meals. And as the months went by, we managed to win her over just enough to fatten her up and in time she even came inside our cottage in a skittish sort of way. Though with the slightest provocation, a sudden noise or a friend visiting us, she’d hightail it outside of our charming abode and disappear for hours.
I’ve often wondered what really happened in her young life to make such an impression on the rest of her days. But within a year she had her first and only litter of 5 kitties on our bed just before we went overseas. I ended up giving most of them away to good people that answered an ad and I kept a short haired black one that we call Domino, because of his markings, with those white paws on his jet- black fur. But Ginger rejected him and instead fawned over our old guy, Shaq, a neutered male who’s now over 20 years of age. So, things have been a bit dicey between mother and son but they’ve somehow gotten to a point where they almost tolerate each other. This has taken 7 years. But Shaq is her idol, although he too can attack her suddenly for no apparent reason as he’s getting a bit dotty in the head as he ages, and I wonder what will happen between these two when he passes.
But despite all that, as I was hanging out the washing the other day, our Ginger decided to keep me company and I knew that she was a lot more domesticated than I’d previously believed. So, I sat down with her for a moment after clearing out the laundry basket and in time I gave her a few cuddles and petted her silky coat, thinking about what a wonderful little girl pussycat she was to have around. The male cats never helped me with the washing. They’re busy sleeping or rough housing with each other or just catching rays. But Ginger is a female and has a different side to her personality and loves to be company for us, not because she’s ailing like Shaq, or starving for more food like Domino, but because she likes the domestic duties we do around here. And when she came over to the bench and I stopped my work, this is what I thought about for a few minutes. Then rather reluctantly, I stood up and our wee break was over as I had other jobs to finish. And within a minute I looked back towards her and saw that she took over the space I’d occupied, perfectly content to sleep there after our little cat chat.
Our animals make us stop in our tracks with our self-dialogue and our foibles. They are just in the here and now and so was I for quite a few minutes. Afterwards, I felt very content myself and could have purred like she was. Although they keep us on our toes, there are lashings of delight having them share our space and time. And unconditional love is pretty hard to beat.
But don’t worry, I resumed my talking to myself and probably looking a bit silly doing that, but we’re out in the wop wops and nobody’s here except our chickens and they could care less. I could recite the Preamble to the US Constitution and nobody would even notice.