Furry Mates
We've had VeBee, our big girl, for four years. She'd been a giveaway cat whose previous owner wasn't able to take her to her new home, so we welcomed her into ours. I remember the little furball strutting out of her cat cage like Cleopatra; walking around inspecting the house as if to say, 'this will do nicely'.
So determined was our tiny cat to be noticed and attended constantly, that if a door was closed to her we'd soon hear the sound of her tiny frame ramming into the timber, head first she'd barge. And as we opened the door, Boy recalls, a massive shadow loomed in the doorframe. But when your eyes adjusted there she was. A fraction of the size of the shadow, fluffy, face as sweet as fairy gloss. We gave her a nickname, 'The Vebeenator'.
When Heineken, our dopey, love-crazy boy came along; acquired as a friend for VeBee before Rio was born, it didn't take VeBee long to take over the role of mother to him. Protective is our big girl. And still, Cleopatra the Cat.
Although you can tell Rio annoys VeBee more often than not; she ignores her mostly, unless her tail is being pulled and she has no choice, today I watched the cutest scene.
Rio stood on the lawn eating her sultanas and VeBee stalked nearby. She weaves between Rio's legs and meows up at her. They told eachother stories for minutes, Rio pointing here; looking there, VeBee looking too. There's a chicken, and a tree. And there VeBee, it's a rock. Have a sultana, they're yummy.
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