We had a delivery this morning.
There was a knock on the door and I took some time to get to it. Read into that what you will. I might have been asleep. Who can say. But the knock on the door garnered my attention and I yelled out to give me a minute as I got my shit together.
I strolled downstairs, eventually, and opened the door to find that the delivery lady was just on her way back to the door with a card telling me where she had hidden the parcel. Which was all sorts of nice of her and very appreciated. She’d not heard my yelling, despite the window being open. So when I opened the door she was a little surprised, but told me where the parcel was.
However, while the door was open Trixie just strolled in. Not even stopping at the threshold. She just meandered in to the house as happy as Larry and started sniffing around things.
Now, Peppa doesn’t like Trixie. There is much hissing and ineffectual paw waving that takes place. Some angry growling. Things of that nature. All Trixie wants is to be friends, and Peppa’s not up for that. Conveniently forgetting the way that she, herself, as a kitten used to bug the crap out of Pumpkin by following her round the house and looming over her as she slept on the bed. But hey ho.
It’s hard to be cross with Trixie though. She seems to live quite an external existence because she “shits everywhere”. Which is weird, because Peppa got the whole litter tray thing down in no time. But hey ho, what do we know? Trixie seems to be thrown out for the day, and is also apparently thrown out for the evening. She’s generally hungry and just wants some company, or at least some vague indication that someone likes her.
I bloody love her. She’s a massive ball of fluff.
But obviously she can’t stay, because she’s not ours and Peppa would get a bit angry.
The fact that she has absolutely no qualms about meandering into the house is a bit of an issue, though. As we move into spring and summer I’m going to start throwing the door open to let the lovely warm air into the house and generally feel spring-summerly. But now with an added transient ball of fur. I had thought, up until this morning, that she might have some reservations about just meandering in. But that’s clearly not the case.
But like I say, you can’t be mad. She’s out in all weathers and it’s shit. I just wish there was a way I could get the two cats to get along, maybe form some sort of gang. I mean, there is. But it requires long periods with them in different rooms getting used to their smells, or rubbing Trixie with something of Peppa’s so they smell similar.
I guess – more so now than I realised before – I’m just going to have to get used to having a visitor most days, and be fully aware of the fact that I am probably going to be in the middle of several frantic cat fights over the course of the next few months.
Or, to at least slow that process down, we can never have another delivery…