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As mentioned in the last post, Durelle is having some serious Golden Retriever withdrawal issues. Assuming she eventually succumbs to the persuasiveness of my arguments and agrees to move into a unit of independent/assisted living, only small pets are permitted. Seventy five pounds does not qualify. The compromise was a cat
So, Friday, Durelle and Cindy went the Animal Society to find a cat. There were very few adult cats to choose from. They came back with a little (71/2 pound), scrawny, flea-bitten, black short-haired thing whose only redeeming virtue was that he came over and climbed up into Durelle's lap. The pick of the litter she was not. Durelle named her, "Bettsy", and the spelling is intentional.
She made herself at home with no fuss. She quickly found and uses her litter box and bed. She eats as if she were recently starved, and we think she was. It appears that her coat is cleaning up and filling out nicely. She is well on her way toward being a good looking, well behaved house cat. She's not a golden, but she's just as affectionate. Now all we have to do is get her leash trained so Durelle can take her for a walk.
For decades we have enjoyed sitting outside the front of the house dispensing normally scarce confections to hordes of artfully disguised urchins. Luckily, we live in a neighborhood where it is safe for pre-teens to be walking around after sundown, albeit with a parent lurking in the background. Durelle managed the candy bowl while I handled the camera. Here's a few.
In addition to these creatures of the night, we had a real apparition (oxymoron?😕) visit us. Durelle now uses her many old golf towels as dish towels. Recently she draped one of them over the lid of the clothes hamper to dry a bit before relegating it to the hamper. When she looked at it the next morning she saw the face of a golden retriever. Granted, she still dreams of goldens, but even a sceptic with a bit of imagination could find the face in the dirty towel.
What do you think?
