It’s hard to believe Moo Cat is going to be 14 soon. Which is about 70 in human years. So she’s a grande dame. A senior citizen. A bit grizzled from the cute li’l kitten I first got to know back in 2008. But still Moo Cat after all these years.
I have a special bond with Moo Cat. Because she’s the most like me of all the feral cats that have come and gone at my campsite. Her personality and character. High-strung. Volatile. Hyper-emotional. Mercurial. Drama Queen. Constantly complaining… .
If I’ve been petting her for awhile, and she’s purring like crazy, laying on top of my chest, when I finally have to get up, and gently push her off my chest, she’ll groan and growl at me. This gutteral noise of disapproval and anger that she invariably makes. Like she’s thinking: “You asshole! Just when I was comfortable and purring away and now you’re making me get up and move!!” She’ll make further grunts and groans of kvetching. And she might even slash at me with her claws if she’s really pissed. Ha ha (I’ve known her so long I can usually spot it beforehand when she’s in the mood to slash and keep my hands at a safe distance before she draws blood). But we have a special bond. That everyone with pets can understand as the relationship deepens over the years and the decades. She’s my baby.