Update! 18th Sept, 2015. Well, Meesha was rehomed, and will be getting pampered, and given ham and stuff very soon! Great work, Keighley Cat Care!
This week we received a letter from the delightful Meesha who has been living at Downton Abbey for over 2 years now waiting for a home to call her own.
Like most rescue cats, they had an unknown past, (interpol have yet to be in touch, so fingers crossed), and she was thin, tired, and bedraggled when she came in with her rescuers.
Meesha started out, like Tamara, on the hard streets of Bradford. She was found underneath a rusty wreck of a car, after giving birth to her flock of mini-cats. From the description given, I can only assume that she started out her life in the land of Mad Max. She was probably lying in wait to ambush a passing marauder for petrol, water, or ham.
Meesha is an adorable little diva who is particularly focussed, (in this case focussed on the end of her nose). She is a little cross-eyed, but as a cat I can tell you that it is the character differences that makes each of us special. It has no effect on her ability to ‘cat’, but does make her look incredibly adorable.
Since arriving at her foster home, she has had some lovely times. She spends her day telling risqué jokes to the albino cats who stand guard along the pathway. She has managed to get a smirk from them, but she has yet to see them guffaw out loud. She will achieve this one day. Still, look at that place. Looks stunning!
She is quite discerning, and likes everything in her place, unlike several other cats at the home. The beds in the greenhouse are on a first come, first served basis, but some of these ‘Johnny Come lately’ cats just assume they can reserve beds by simply leaving a mouse upon it. This is not right. No matter how much she voices her complaints at the other residents nothing is ever accomplished. She only has one course of action left to her…
Complain to management.
There was another problem she noticed at the time of this complaint, and that was the fact that some ‘oversized’ hooman had sat on her spot, putting one bum cheek on each paving slab. This was not acceptable, but discretion is the better part of valour… She will wait until the other issues are resolved first.
Like any criminal mastermind, she never likes to spend too long sleeping in the same place. If she isn’t in one of the cosy greenhouse beds, she’ll be found in her other favourite place… A drainpipe full of leaves. If it is winter, and chilly outside, when will move into her penthouse suite inside a cardboard box near the central-heating boiler.
So, what a life she has led! From the deserted wasteland of a post-apocalyptic Bradford, beneath the rusting hulk of a car, to Downton Abbey, and its legion of humourless albino guard-cats. All she needs, however, is a little home, and a lap to call her own, and a hooman to purr at, and make the occasional complaint to.
Do you think you can help, or know someone who can help?