Poppy’s story
Poppy
is my oldest rescue cat, who was taken to a centre at five weeks old by a person
unknown. I picked her up the same day she arrived, in summer 1997.
Poppy
came to us with her brother H, who sadly was knocked down and killed by a car at
9 months old. Now, none of our cats go out, instead having a run and heated
outdoor pens for fresh air and entertainment.
When
Poppy and H first arrived, it was clear they’d been taken away from Mum too
soon. Neither of them could walk very far without toppling over like toddlers.
The litter tray was too high for them to climb into, so I had to put them on the
tray every 20 minutes during their waking time! Then, they’d settle back down
to sleep again.
As
they grew up they learned to wash themselves, but funniest of all was when they
learned to hiss. They’d shimmy across the room clapping their front paws at
each other hissing and growling vociferously for the practice!
Poppy’s
coat is as soft as silk, thin too, but she doesn’t visibly look as though she
has any oriental blood. Her brother H was a really woolly grey cat with a proper
feral coat. I guess they had different dads, which is possible within the same
litter of kittens. They probably came from one of the local farms, where
somebody couldn’t be bothered to have the parents neutered.
Poppy’s
most amusing habit is that she squeaks when she purrs. Her most annoying one is
that she can open doors by flinging herself at the handle and pulling it down
with her paws. She let all the cats out of a room once when I’d shut them in
for the electrician to do some work. It’s a good job the back door was closed
at the time!
Photos
Persephonies
Korats
