Despite the long pause since my last post, life on the home front has not been uneventful. Kimberley will be seventeen in a matter of weeks and is finally acknowledging an interest in guys, well, one in particular. Of more concern is that it is reciprocated – by the owner of an eyeball with a wicked twinkle of note – the reason I liked him on acquaintance and the reason that I now sweat little rubber bullets from time to time.
Kirby has undergone a character transformation – no longer the quiet, almost invisible, shadow of his first months with us. He now holds loud conversations while motivating for his next meal, during the preparation of his next meal, and occasionally on greeting. He loves Daisy to bits – I’ve given up laughing when, on cooler evenings, he comes through to join us all and tries to snuggle up to her. The sight of the Rolling White Eyeball while she tries to deal with her friendly feline half-sibling’s overtures of friendship and the built-in Staffie urge to eat cats all at the same time became too much for me. She’s finally discovered the merits of having a warm furry being curled up against the bits that aren’t covered by her polar fleece jacket so the eyeball now just does a little cursory white flicker so we all understand that this is extremely unnatural. Like that worries Kirby, or any of us for that matter!
Kirby has also decided to befriend the four Jack Russels next door. As that fence now has an electrified wire, fortunately above his normal reach, the dogs are rarely seen off their property – a relief as they have been a hazard on the road for years. The smallest ran under the wheels of my car as I pulled off some months ago – I had seen her, stopped and then moved forward slowly once she should have been out of the way. Fortunately she only had a bit of bruising to show for the experience but I still go cold at the thought and, until the electrification of the fence, she still ran in the road as often as not.
Kirby sustains this friendship by curling up and napping on a section of soft grass with his back against the fence in an area frequented by the dogs. They have decided to, officially at least, ignore him, possibly for the same reason as Daisy : preserving their sanity as well as their reputations. On the other hand, it may be the result of an inbuilt suspicion that any cat that is such an easy target has to be bait which is to be ignored until they’ve worked out what the trap is.
Interestingly, he has also started developing a Swiss Army nose like Daisy’s. Daisy uses hers to pry the door open when there’s only a chink and she wishes it to become a Staffie-permitting portal. Kirby uses his for a similar purpose : to open the bedroom window more widely if the wind has narrowed the usual space. Coming through, ready or not.
And Kirby is now referred to by Kimberley as The Kirbett – no problem with that on his part. Although nothing has rattled his devotion to munchies as his primary food source, he has become rather partial to tinned food. The budget doesn’t permit an unlimited amount of this secondary diet and he has taken to explaining very lucidly when he would like some more of the latter (note : not in lieu of the former, but also). Other than that, he remains a conservative but still voracious eater – very suspicious of before rejecting a piece of pork sausage, looked with interest at spaghetti on my plate but declined it when given some in his own bowl – and I’m now hoping to persuade him to eat egg occasionally. The reason for this is a bald patch above his tail which doesn’t seem to be causing him any discomfort but I’d like to improve the overall quality of his coat without resorting to chemical supplements, if possible.
Now I’ll have to contend with two pairs of rolling white eyeballs for a while.