Miss Tuffy-Cat was cornered on the bed this morning. She tried to make a break for it, as soon as we entered the room bearing the dreaded towel but, luckily for us, was still a little sleep-heavy. Reluctantly, she surrendered to the papoose-wrap and the icky medicine squirt, but then dashed outside at the earliest opportunity.
It is now almost 16h00 and thus time for the second dose of the day, and she is still lounging about on the warm paving stones at the side of the pool, with noooo intention of obligingly coming indoors. I’ve tried to tempt her, but to no avail. I also don’t want to put her on the alert, which isn’t easy, considering that she has a finely honed sixth sense.
I think she’s realised that the inside of the house is a dangerous place during the daytime. And as the weather gods are smiling upon us with warm sunshine and summer breezes, which is her favourite kind of weather for soaking up the sun, it’s unlikely that she can be tempted inside.
I wish it would rain.
Just for the next two hours.
So how about it, weather gods?
Just a bit of rain over our neighbourhood? Or even just our house?
One cloud? With a nice little thunderstorm?
P.S. Thanks to reinforcements arriving in the form of Tuffy’s other daddy, capturing and dosing her was actually less traumatic than anticipated. Of course, the littl’un is now feeling trebly betrayed by the decidedly unfair ratio of 3:1. Which is why she went off to hide under the agapanthus in the front garden. Not for long, though. Whew.