May I introduce Ms. Ginger Thompson? She is a lady of mature years(8) who, through no fault of her own (she’s a sweet girl), has been rehomed three times in a year. I’ve told her that as long as I am in this house, she will not be rehomed again. She doesn’t believe me yet—we’ve only known each other three days—but I’m doing my best to show her that I’m a reliable human slave.

We aren’t doing too bad. She’s comfortable enough around me to let me pet her (with her tail up) and give her scritches, but doesn’t know me well enough to pick her up. She liked sitting with me when I was working on the computer (and has already explored the computer table), but I can’t convince her to get on my lap yet. She’s come close, jumping up on the arm of my chair or the footrest, but she doesn’t stay long. These things take time and I’m trying not to let my hopes rush her in anything.

She’s still really missing her previous residence and keeps telling me plaintively that she wants me to take her back there. It kind of breaks my heart, but I hope in time I can show her that I’m willing and able to spoil her absolutely rotten and give her anything she demands—short of taking her back to that previous abode. Time. Patience. Love.

I’ve told her I love her, but given the year she’s had it’s going to take her a while to trust. But we’re getting there! Last night she played with her mousy toys and even felt comfortable enough to lay on her back with her legs in the air. True, it only lasted a minute, but those of you who know cats understand that is a positive sign.