The Pussy Tree

Let me tell you a little story…

miss pearlThis is Pearl (aka Acorn). She fell from a tree 2 years ago. She was about 2 weeks old and we never could figure why the momma had her babies up there. They tried to rescue the others, but it was a no go. The next day, the momma had apparently moved the rest of the litter.

Now, let me explain something. I’m a damn sucker for babies, especially the ones with whiskers that meow. I currently have five cats. I know…insert crazy cat lady jokes here. And yes, everyone I know posts those funny “crazy cat lady starter kit” images for me on Facebook. Yes, I’m THAT lady and everyone knows it. Lola loves her some pussy.

keekat vetAnyway, back to Pearl. Once she fell out of the tree, I got a call. “Please, Auntie! There’s this tiny kitty that fell out of our tree and I can’t keep her. What should I do?!” Well, me being the crazy cat lady, I was like…”bring her now!” I loaded her up in the tiniest cat crate I have and had her shipped off to the vet to make sure she was ok. She was fine, nothing major, just dirty and ragged and hungry as hell. The pic above is her when she finally got to “move in.”

keekatAfter the vet, I convinced my niece to put her on with her momma kitty’s litter so she could nurse as she obviously was in no way weaned. Thankfully the momma took her in and everything went fine. After she was weaned, I brought her home and introduced her to the rest of the “family.” They still only barely tolerate her, but she’s made her mark and is now a bonafide member of the team. This pic above is her with one of the other litter mates.

not pleasedNow, here’s the weird part. After moving into my new home last Christmas, she’s been literally glued and transfixed by something in the living room. There’s this one spot on the ceiling that she talks to and stares at non-stop. She could be running around playing, sleeping, eating, whatever, and all of a sudden “SQUIRREL!!!” and there she goes…transfixed as usual. She talks to it like it’s her best friend…chirp chirp chirp…but not the I’m-gonna-hunt-your-ass-down-and-kill-you bird chirp that most cats make when hunting prey. The pic at the beginning of the post is this very thing in action. The pic above is her with Uncle T-Bone. He is the only one who REALLY TRULY tolerates her. He’s a sweet old man for sure.

Rather unnerving, but cute all the same. Is it a ghost? Is it insanity? Is it wishful thinking? Cats won’t ever tell you. They’re so stuck up that way.

Love, Lola

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