Today, my old and ugly cat of uncertain years abandoned her sit-in and left the house for the first time to start her new life in Provence. It’s been seven months since we sat for hours at a special cat check-in area at Gatwick. Seven months since, sobbing pathetically, I handed her over to a kindly gentleman who told me not to worry, put her in the aircraft hold and sent her off to cat hell.
She made it of course, and within hours of leaving chilly England she was tucked up in a wardrobe in Provence. Whereupon she began her seven-month sit-in, moving only under the cover of darkness to her food and litter tray. So today is quite a day for her and for me; for it’s only now that I’ve seen her mis-shapen form purring in the sunshine and her big fat tummy dusty from the warm Luberon soil that I feel we really live here.
Comments