Tuesday, 27 September 2011

Featuring Fenella

Featuring Fenella

Fenella spent most of her first somethingteen years with her elderly human, who unfortunately died and Fenella inherited a new slave in her former human’s daughter  who was not interested in cats. She didn’t even bother to tell the shelter where she deposited our noble moggy what her name was.  I wonder if she knew….
With a precancerous condition on her ears and a poor coat from a flea allergy our heroine was one of those cats who are not easy to rehome; fortunately for her – though sadly for us, because we had lost one of our furry family – we had space for another needy cat.  We called her ‘Fenella’ being the English form of Fionnghuala meaning ‘she of the white shoulders’ and easier to spell. 
Fenella just loves to keep her white fur pristine which has earned her the title of ‘The Duchess of Dhobi’.  Often just ‘The Duchess’ or ‘Madam’ she acknowledges all her names and titles with a smirk and an inclination of the head and a total refusal to actually come when called.
When she went missing in August we were distraught; we had only had her six months but she was already a part of the family.  Biff and Jasper were seriously spooked but were unable to tell us where she might be.
We walked all round the neighbourhood, put out notes and put up notices, followed every lead; after all how common can a pure white cat be?
Two up our road, two in a parallel road and three in a street easily accessed by a bit of woodland across the main road.

Three weeks later wonderful Kerry and Harriet rang up and said they though they had found her – and not holding out much hope we went round, a parallel street.
And it was her!
The shock of picking her up though, she flew up in my arms so light after having been…..let us be charitable and call it stately in figure. 
She is now being spoiled rotten and is trying to regain her stately figure – and is ready for cuddles all the time! 
The photo below shows her having found a box just too small for her and her paws still stained and grubby from her ordeal. Since then she has taken me for a drag on the lead - she's still far from robust enough to let out alone - and I have found by the circuitous routes of dustbin runs how she got through to the area where she was found.  Either that or it's a pop-hole to Narnia. 

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