The Puddy Diaries - Nov 24

Several people have mentioned that I am my most endearing here when I write about the cat. The converse is probably something I should think more about more often, that I am clearly not normally very endearing. But, no, I think I can live with that… mostly.

But this week… well… maybe it’s high time I was endearing again. It’s been quite a while, after all. Time to update the Puddy Log.

Puddy is the semi-feral cat that came into both of our lives just as the boys were largely going out. I named her Puddy because that’s how I referred to her. That as well as Pussy, Pusscat Pussy-Pussy and Puddledy-Puddledy, much to the late night consternation of my next door neighbours, I’m sure.

So, yes, a Puddy update is perhaps in order, if only to redeem my public persona. The only trouble is… well, there isn’t all that much to update. No earth-shattering developments, no startling revelations. Life with Puddy simply goes on.

Puddy spent her Summer and early Autumn out of doors. She would come into the sitting room every evening and ignore the television for three or four hours but as bedtime approached, she would need to be off and would not be encouraged into her normal overnight accommodation in the front hall. For those months, it was like the comfy fur basket in the hall did not exist or, at best, had committed some deep and personal affront to the cat. 

But now, as the Winter draws ever inward, Puddy is once more happy to overnight in the hall. She has everything she needs there. Munchies, water, and litter tray. But she cannot get out until I come and let her out in the morning. For the first few revisits of this season, I was up at five to see if she needed to go out and, indeed, when I opened the door, out she popped. But as the days get darker, colder, and wetter, she has had no continuing enthusiasm for an early departure. Seven forty-five will do nicely, thank you. She will only visit the litter-tray when caught short and that is a rare event. So I would imagine the rapid 7.45 departure is straight to the nearest bush convenience. She does a high speed ‘slink’ through the door as soon as the opening is more than a crack and then she is gone. Until she is back again ten minutes later demanding breakfast.

It’s Sunday morning, around eight, and I’ve just been out in the back garden with a foil sachet of food, waving it in the breeze. The crinkly sound of the packet usually brings Puddy along from whatever she is doing. Last night, she refrained from overnighting in the hall. She had been in there for most of the day, in fairness, assessing the electoral candidate’s representatives as they came and went. This morning, my sachet-waving has also failed to get her to materialise. I’m not worried though. She’ll turn up when she’s good and ready.

Puddy doesn’t make a lot of noise. She has a Meow in reserve for when she’s hangry but it’s a very quiet one. We’ve got used to it now but for a while we were very surprised at how quiet a cat she is. She purrs when Patricia strokes her and when she’s chasing Dreamies around the room. Patricia won her over with patience and kindness and gets to have a daily 'fuss' on Puddy’s strict terms. In this regard, Puddy and I remain in a permanent stand-off. She follows me around with interest whenever I’m doing stuff in the garden and weaves in and out between my shins when she’s of a mind but we both seem clear that any further PDA activity is firmly off the cards.

Puddy largely ignores the television when she resides in the biggest armchair in the room in the evenings. All manners of shouts, screams, and loud noises are equally ignored. Trying to get her hooked, I went to YouTube to see if there are any videos designed to intrigue cats. Surprise surprise, there are many and, now that I’d selected one or two, the algorithm has made this my first choice of things to see. They all follow a similar theme. A log in the forest or a feeder in a garden, some food laid out on it, and hours and hours of birds coming and going. No music, no narration, no murder to solve. Just an endless stream of our winged friends, eating and leaving, like 66% Pandas. One riff on these cat videos features a combination of birds and tiny frenetic rodents who shoot in and out of various crevasses. Without having any visible aversion to either of these genera, this video has populated my nightmares on several occasions now.

As for Puddy, when one of these videos comes on, she studiously ignores it for a while but, gradually, the fascination grows. She doesn’t move in her armchair but her demeanour becomes infinitely more engaged and alert. Whenever a bird flies off screen, her head moves to follow its flight around the room. Failing to find it, she returns attention to the screen and waits to track the next departure. It’s fun to watch Puddy watching the birds and the rat-things on YouTube but the fun can never continue for too long. Sooner or later, Puddy will graduate from casual viewer status to wild hunter mode. You can almost see her mind go, “Feck it, I am gonna eat one of those Mudders.” Then she’s up and on her way to the telly, all purpose and death. It’s a sudden switch back to Match of the Day then or the telly will be shredded. Puddy always needs to go out the window and into the garden, then, just to check and see if all the birds and things are congregating out there in the bushes.

Puddy has brought a new dimension to our lives. Not quite a pet, not quite a visitor, we don’t really know what she is. We just know we care about her and will look out for her in whatever way she needs.

What does the future hold? Who on earth knows?

And am I just referring to Puddy? What do you think?

Some Previous Puddy Posts - In Order: (The Cat Act III might be the best)

Speaking French to the Cats

Desenchante par le Chat

The Cat - Act III

The Cat - Full Circle

Puddy in the Hall

Cat Dancing

Falling for All the Cats