I seem to have acquired a new cat. A co-worker found her around the family cabin up Salmonier Line, matted and hungry. She’s been brushed down and fed up, but the co-worker already has a dog, a turtle, and four cats, so she was looking for another home and/or the original owners.

And, well, I’d been thinking about getting a third, or getting into fostering, or something, and there she was… And just after I took her home, the owners were found. And they don’t want her back. The cat was inherited from a dying aunt, and they’re “not really cat people”, and she’s been kept at the cabin for three years with food and not much else, so to be honest I’m glad they don’t want her back.


She’s currently in quarantine in my spare bedroom, pending a vet visit tomorrow. If she turns out to have nothing contagious, I’ll start the introductions to the two existing feline residents sometime in the next week. (If she does have FIV or something, she’ll need a home with no other cats, and I won’t be able to keep her.)

I’ve been calling her Margery, after Margery Kempe, one of the most remarkably and persistently insane authors of medieval England.

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