Laima, a quirky little cat with a permanently furrowed brow and a stripy coat, arrived early one morning with her two owners in tow. Perplexed at this latest turn of events, she eyed me suspiciously. Her day had begun normally and then without warning she'd been bundled into her carrier, and now found herself sitting in the middle of my front room. She decided to make a thorough search of the premises before she could even think about breakfast. Inch by inch she did a slow and curious dance around the room, climbing onto bits of furniture, sticking her head into cubby holes and triple sniffing the surface area of everything, until she was for that moment, satisfied.
Hours later and beneath a crumpled forehead Laima's intelligent eyes still twinkled with questions, her face expressing an array of emotions through tiny twitches of her knitted brow. Curiosity soon got the better of her and it wasn't long before she was following me everywhere, determined not be hoodwinked twice in one day.
To Laima's delight I possess a healthy head of curly locks. At first she tried to keep her fixation under wraps. She would sleep a few feet from my head, happy just to catch the occasional whiff of hair. But her habit escalated and I soon found myself regularly detaching her from my head, which she would curl around like a bad wig.
Often she will turn her considerable charms on unsuspecting guests, the routine always the same: First she makes small circles around their ankles. Occasionally glancing sweetly up at her victim, head cocked, checking out their coiffure. She widens her path to include the back of the sofa that they are sitting on, taking a surreptitious sniff on every pass. Quite suddenly, whilst traversing the settee, a few inches from the head in question she is overtaken with fatigue. Feigning a yawn before sitting down, she will lean in and inhale deeply, her purr often startling our hapless guest. By then it is already too late and in a flash, Laima has hooked her front paws around their shoulders and is face deep in hair. At this point Laima may momentarily loose her composure, her soft paws clinging on to the strangers neck as I physically lift her away. Recovering swiftly and looking slightly ashamed, she is next seen giving herself a thorough head to paw groom ( a feline equivalent to a cold shower).
Laima is an incredibly gentle cat with a limited amount of patience. Sitting on my desk she watches as I, pencil wagging furiously in my hand, scribble a note on a small piece of paper. She becomes increasingly irritated by the combined movement of my hand and the pencil, and gently places a paw on my writing hand, slowing it down and flashing me a look. When I continue to write she stands up, softly biting my writing hand between my thumb and forefinger before turning and flicking her tail so it lands for just a second on my nose and trotting away.