Catching this glimpse of Muffy in the setting sun, caused a flow of memories…
She came to the farm in a group of strays that the kids picked up at the bottom of Rowlesburg hill. (They were taken in by the old cat trick ‘put the cute little black kitten in the middle of the road, and when the people stop, we’ll all run out of the woods’.) Muffy had a series of health setbacks… a warble in her neck… then a worm that attacked her spine. She was on so much medication that it was months before her dilated pupils contracted. She does not enjoy the company of cats, but she will bring her grown-up kittens ‘gifts’. She thinks that Raven is her dog (much to Raven’s dismay). She should probably be someone’s house cat, but through a twist of fate… circumstance… karma… destiny… she is our barn cat. Our Muffy… she is a survivor.
I think Muffy has landed herself in the perfect home. Jacinta
Three cheers for Muffy! I once wrote, that if you live in the country, there is no need to buy a cat. They always seem to mysteriously arrive at your back door.
I'm so pleased she was led to your home.
She is precious: The first photo is enchanting!!!!!! Thank you.
What a rufty tufty old girl! She reminds me of our Clover, she's got the same 'don't mess with me' frown. She is a darling.
Love that fluffy kitty! She was definitely meant to be yours!
Oh Muffy – you are proof that cats really do have nine lives : )