onionbagblog

Catch the birdy, get yer backside stuck in the cat flap.

Awww…

Cute, isn’t he? Sadly he’s not ours. Buy house, inherit cat, most certainly *wasn’t* part of the deal for @AnnaJCowen and I, although if Mr Legal Eagle had inserted a Get Free Cat clause in our contract, then we probably would have upped the offer.

Cripes.

So yeah, the past couple of weeks in Wivenhoe have been spent falling in love with the previous owners poor pussy. He has a heartbreaking habit of returning back to his former roost - our roost.

It all started at 4am one weekday morning when I was awoken by a (non-pussy joke) um, large pussy jumping on me whilst I was alone in bed.

Blimey.

Profanities followed for a second, until I came round and realised what was going on. The next three hours were spent in semi-sleep with the light on, and my newfound cat friend purring in contentment.

But here’s the real heartbreaker, cool cats and kittens… we quickly realised that the moggy was the family pet of the previous owners, who have now moved not too far down towards the Quay.

Clever Catsy has found his way back to base, proving the theory that you don’t choose a cat, they choose you. On the positive side and it all means that contact has been made once again with the folks we bought the house off. I’m not a great fan of comings and goings via estate agents, and so we discussed (and joked) about the house purchase, and then went pussy hunting.

And whaddya know - there he was, lying on my bed.

Meowww.

If at first you don’t succeed… Catsy has been back most mornings since. It takes a man with little compassion to ignore a cat early each morning as he scratches away at the now sealed cap flap, trying to gain entry.

The Quayside cat owners have suggested that we have water pistols at dawn with Catsy to make sure he gets the message and moves along. I can’t quite bring myself to do that (betcha @AnnaJCowen can…) and so I have resorted to a firm finger point and shake of the head each morning.

My main concern is that Catsy if being fed. I think he finds his way back down to the Quay for food, and then returns up here during the day for sleep. He has gorgeous green eyes, which I find it incredibly difficult to ignore at 7am each morning.

He may be black and white, but on the inside he’s a colourful little character. The young fella is a great deal of fun, which only adds to the heartbreak of turning your back on him.

I’m not sure how long he can keep the duel lifestyle identity up for. And who is to say that he isn’t tugging away at the heart strings of other Wivenhoe locals all the way up from the Quay, nine lives ‘n all that?

Adorable…