Two nights ago I called Charlie for supper. Heard a thump from the shed attic (aha, i thought, thats where he is) and the whir of cat feet charging down the stairs. He stopped dead when he saw me. I was Between Him and His Dish.
I sat on the door step. He stared at me. I stared at him. Held out one hand. He came over, carefully, and suddenly he was under my hand, purrpurrpurr, couldnt get enough. since then he has let me brush him, let me pick him up (10/12 lbs id say), and basically makes a fool of himself to get patted. Lonely fella.
he still eyes the open door into the kitchen carefully. maybe, maybe not yet.
I do worry a bit. Isabel is 14, blind and deaf, now. I dont want her involved in power struggles. So we will take this slowly. maybe, maybe not.