since this lovely little cat came to live with me. Lucy is a completely magnetic mix of trouble and adorableness. She’s constantly exploring her environment, testing things out, and watching and imitating the other cats; much of the time you can just see the cogs whirring in her head as she works out how to climb to the tops of doors, shelves, and mirrors, retrieve magnets from the fridge, food from counters and cupboards, and forbidden toys from high places. She is terrifying and exhaustively intelligent. Much of the past year has been spent cleaning up after her whirlwind.
But she also runs over after her naps, floofy tail held high and meowing her not-quite-meow (a tiny, scratchy roar, really) because it’s crucial to greet everyone after you haven’t seen them for a while. She cuddles with me while I’m reading, kneading my arm, occasionally tapping a paw against my face, and and purring her ever-constant and loud purr. She pushes her entire self against you when she walks, and tries desperately to befriend the other two cats — following eagerly after the tolerant Cynthia, and more warily after the grumpier Lady Jane.
At times she seems to emanate total cat joy. So while it’s exasperating to have to pick up stacks of books and papers that she’s knocked over while running so fast her back legs can barely keep up as she turns corners, or to rearrange shelves and cupboards after she’s ransacked their contents, or to stop everything and rearrange furniture to prevent her from climbing to yet greater heights — even so, I’m so grateful for her company.
17 May 2015