The Importance of Being Pussy

There were many things in life upon which PussyGirl and the Pussy Posse liked to reflect.

In her (limited) spare time, PussyGirl found this a cathartic pastime and enjoyed musing over the philosophies of life. Recently, her readings had led her to favour the Socratic - life is simply a continuous process of learning and with every new event would come new information to process and reflect upon. In essence, the more she knew, the more she had to learn; a perfect mantra for life in the big smoke and the murkiness of Internet dating.

She liked to observe the anthropological idiosyncrasies of those around her and attempted to gauge exactly what she could learn - sometimes, she concluded, there was nothing new to assimilate and often her conclusions were simplistic and replete with the vernacular; after all a twat is a twat is a twat. She wondered if this might be taken on as a new philosophical precept. Maybe not.

As she reclined on her PussyDivan, PG deliberated over the qualities of her immediate feline companions, CC, MiMi and DeeDee - there was, she concluded, a great deal to learn from the kitty troika and the qualities they displayed.

MiMi, otherwise known as PramFaceKat, was a petite redhead, of green eyes and a friendly disposition. Despite having a prole of seven kittens, she was a loving and light hearted kitty, independent, yet affectionate and unaffected by the abandonment of the Kittyfathers (it is believed that there was more than one, given the array of eye and fur colour in each kindle). There was a great deal to admire here, in the short space of two years, MiMi had delivered and nurtured her children, seeing them into good homes and returned to her usual sunny disposition - not to mention snapping straight back in to shape. She was a trooper in the best sense of the word.

CC was another bag of cats altogether: strikingly handsome, young and slightly reckless - he was known for approaching strangers' cars and begging his way on to the passenger seat just for the hell of it. His beauty was legendary; muscular, fair with exquisite markings and eyes the colour of a calm sea on a clear day. In observing him, PG had come to notice that his constant calling and chattering was not to plead for more food, but to garner love and affection. He was a friendly male and enjoyed nothing more than good company and his fair share of petting and stroking. Another lesson learned, not all of the male persuasion were one step away from fully blown affective dysfunction - CC was walking, kittystalking meowing proof of this. Moreover, while he played on his looks, once his personality was allowed to shine through, it was apparent that he was more than just a pretty kitty face.

And so to DeeDee, the world's serenest feline. Here was an example of cat fortitude if ever there was one. Our feline heroine, despite her outstanding longhaired fluffy beauty had been abandoned to her fate in the garden of PussyMansions. She had survived a cold winter, living on her wits and looks, taking refuge in the ramshackle garden shed. PussyGirl had spotted her and wondered who she belonged to. Slowly, they built a bond - initially through chicken scraps and saucers of milk. DeeDee left the shed and ventured indoors, choosing the safe haven of the underbed. Six months and much coaxing later, she began to integrate into the daily life of PussyMansions, sleeping in open spaces and sharing mealtimes with CC and MiMi. It was clear, that with patience and love, even the most frightened of pussies can be saved and brought into the fold. DeeDee proved to be serene, good natured and highly affectionate and enjoyed nothing more than a snooze on the PussyDivan with PG and the gang.

This troika had afforded PG much material for reflection on the varying natures of the individual:- that not every meow is a cupboard call, patience is a virtue, adversity can be overcome, unexpected motherhood can be a blessing, good looks are but a part of the sum, and you can never make a cat do anything it does not want to do. Coercion is an alien concept to those of the pussy persuasion.

PG noted these reflections in her pussylog and vowed to take these lessons forward in her quest.

Pussycat, Pussycat Where Have You Been?

Indeed, that was the question.

PussyGirl had been a nomadic kitten for much of her life, settling in places for some time and then taking off again when she felt the kitty wanderlust.

She had undertaken voyages far and wide, learned many languages in order to converse with the locals and enhance her own experiences in lands far flung and nearer to home. While she exhibited levels of caution at times, conversely she enjoyed nothing more than taking off on another adventure, be it long or short haul. She was, in summary, and slightly paradoxically, a cautious adventurer.

This pussycat's recent excursion had been a short one, but nevertheless, enjoyable and memorable in equal measure.

One clement autumn evening, she had taken off in the Pussymobile to the countryside for some fun and frolics, aided and abetted by her pussypal, FashionKat.

They arrived late on Friday evening, admired the mountain silhouette in the dark of night and then headed for the hotel bar. And it wasn't long before they had made inroads into the wine stash. PussyGirl remarked to herself how much she liked these getaways, acknowledging her need for stimulation, intellectual or otherwise, not to mention a good old fashioned knees up.

It seemed, she thought, that this would be another of those slightly raucous weekends, fuelled by fun and doses of very nice wine - and the occasional anecdote to pack in the luggage for the journey home. Much to her delight, PussyGirl was wrong. She had not counted on meeting SharkMan in the mountains, and this encounter made her trip unforgettable in all sorts of ways.

Their collision had been a beautiful and unexpected one. He was a curious creature, bit of a loner, slightly kooky and hugely entertaining. He admired her leopard print gabardine and she admired his sense of adventure - he travelled the globe counting and conserving endangered sealife. "How very sustainable and ecological," thought our feline friend.

They sat under the light of the silvery moon, while he played owl to her pussycat. There was no pea green boat, but there was a crate load of pussy petrol and more than enough kitten cocktails. They caroused and cavorted under the sparkling carpet of midnight blue, giggling and sitting closer each time. "This", thought PG, "is much more like it - a man of intellect, humour and kookiness who likes a drink or six. Hurrah for the faraway!"

Alas, like all good stories, this one burned bright and short. PussyGirl could not quite fathom where it had faltered as she took out her pen to scribe him a farewell note. They had met again on her second night, continuing in much the same vein. But something went wrong, and for the life of her, she was not sure exactly what. There had been more PussyPetrol and more laughter, that much she remembered. And she recalled SharkMan leaving abruptly, almost without warning. He had planned to meet her when he was in the big smoke; but this night, he felt should draw to a close. His explanation was vague, she thought. True, their squiffiness might impede true love from flourishing, but this had hardly stopped them the night before.

No matter, his mind was made up - she urged him to reconsider to no avail - to which she declined his offer to meet the following weekend in the smoke. Why then and not now? Later, upon reflection, she would come to rue this utterance, but at the time it seemed a fair retort to the rejection she felt.

She signed off on the note and placed it gently under the doorway; she hoped he would at least read it.

"Dear SharkMan

A short note to tell you how lovely it was to meet you - really.
Please email or call if you would like to see me when in town; I can come and meet you.
Meantime, good luck with your seafaring voyages and look after those lovely sharks!

Yours with much affection,

PussyGirl"
xxx

And with a deft stroke of her pen, she ended this short episode and kissed goodbye to the mountains, the fresh air and their beautiful collision.