Willow is a 6 month old Maine Coon Kitten with piercing eyes, a beautiful mane of fur and a massive tail, which when she is in a good mood curves over the top of her body like a fountain. She was spayed recently and she licked and picked at her scar which quickly got infected, so when she arrives she is still sporting the Elizabethan styled collar that the vet issued a few weeks before.
Willow is unfazed by the collar or her recent health problems and tares around my apartment sniffing, patting and jumping on every object she encounters. After an hour or two she collapses exhausted onto the sofa and sleeps. Minutes later she’s awake again and surprised to find she is not at home launches herself immediately into a second inspection of her new space.
The sedate cat toys bouncing gently on bits of elastic or springs don’t stand a chance against Willow who is a natural hunter. The toys are used to a much gentler playtime but remain expressionless as they are stripped of feathers and mauled mercilessly by this energetic kitten. Willow watches quizzically as I collect their remains and put them in a box to be repaired later.
The second day of Willows visit she exhausts herself so much she falls asleep in my arms purring contentedly. I present her with a battery operated butterfly, which she pounces on endlessly capturing it in her mouth and dragging it off of the table. In the evening she is quite chatty and we have little conversations. She matches my every comment with a heartfelt meow.
At night she falls asleep immediately, her little tummy rising and falling on the pillow next to me
Me. When I wake up she is sleeping soundly but I notice a tiny blue feather caught in her gently flapping tail. When we get up for breakfast the front room is strewn with bald and dismembered cat toys that she has liberated from the