Tangerine, the wounded feral cat who is currently recuperating in my office is upset. I’m guessing after almost two full days of being here, she has finally realized she is being kept captive and wishes to wreak her revenge on her captor, namely me. So, starting at 4:00 am she started crying with her heart-breaking little girl cat meow. “Tangerine” I call from the bedroom. Silence. Then she starts up with the melancholy yowling, as if she were mourning her freedom to be romping freely in the cold darkness of her outdoor territory. “Tangerine” I once again call, but with perhaps a bit more annoyance. Silence. Then the frantic calling started, as if she were a scared injured child. Now I am worried. Perhaps she is caught somewhere. Maybe she has ripped open her wound. I get up to check on her.
There aren’t many places for her to hide here in the office. Usually I find her in the lower cubby hole of the kitty condo. I’m glad she has taken up residence there as it makes it very easy to apply the warm compresses and clean her wounds, as well as give her her medicine. She really has been a good little trouper. However, this morning, she’s not in her condo. She’s not behind the computer, nor hiding behind the curtain. I find her in a corner of the closet, looking slightly scared and annoyed at my appearance. She’s fine. So, I go back to bed, hoping that my personal appearance would either frighten or sooth her into silence.
No such luck. Same escalation from plaintive mewing to frantic calling. Oh crikey. Maybe she really is stuck this time. Nope. She’s curled up in her kitty condo looking at me as if to say “what is all the fuss?”
I pull the condo with cat enclosed near to the desk and pet her as I write this complaint. She seems to enjoy the petting and does seem to feel more at ease now. She’s even given my hand a head butt when there was a pause in petting as if to say “more.” Maybe she was just lonely.