My little grey cat, Phoebe has been missing for a week now and it seems extremely likely that she has been killed by someone who lives locally who has begun cruelly maiming and killing cats again despite being taken to court last year and fined 900 Euros.
To say that I am upset would be an understatement. I couldn't speak yesterday without bursting into tears. I can't begin to understand how anyone could behave like this and my only hope is that she didn't suffer.
Phoebe came to me as the tiniest of kittens, very close to death, I didn't give her a name at first because I didn't think she would last an hour. She didn't move for four days. I was very ill at the time and kept her close to me, feeding her tiny amounts with a syringe every 15 minutes. After four days she woke up and never looked back.
She was a sunny, friendly and happy little cat who preferred cuddles to food. She would always find something to snuggle up to if we weren't around. When the other cats were be hissing in fury at a strange cat coming into the garden she would rub noses in greeting and often curl up in the sunshine next to them. She seemed to have a fondness for battered old tom cats.
Shortly after moving to Job we were admiring the newly born calves alseep in the meadow below our garden, there was one slightly bemused looking cow and a closer look revealed a little pair of grey ears sticking up between the cow and the calf! She also used to sleep with some local horses and sheep. You could often tell where she had been by the smell! (Not always bad, the hay smelt lovely)
She could never get close enough and her favourite trick was to climb inside your jumper where she would happily spend the day.
Because she had all our attention she began copying our speech and had a very convincing 'eh-oh' that she used as a greeting and also to wheedle and get her own way. The neighbours used to roar with laughter and she was known locally as 'la chatte qui parle anglaise'. One of the guests came downstairs and said 'I know this is going to sound odd but I just opened my bedroom window and a little grey cat said 'hello' to me!
She was a clown, she had a medieval appearance and often cropped up in photos unintentionally.
Phoebe came to me as the tiniest of kittens, very close to death, I didn't give her a name at first because I didn't think she would last an hour. She didn't move for four days. I was very ill at the time and kept her close to me, feeding her tiny amounts with a syringe every 15 minutes. After four days she woke up and never looked back.
Shortly after moving to Job we were admiring the newly born calves alseep in the meadow below our garden, there was one slightly bemused looking cow and a closer look revealed a little pair of grey ears sticking up between the cow and the calf! She also used to sleep with some local horses and sheep. You could often tell where she had been by the smell! (Not always bad, the hay smelt lovely)
Because she had all our attention she began copying our speech and had a very convincing 'eh-oh' that she used as a greeting and also to wheedle and get her own way. The neighbours used to roar with laughter and she was known locally as 'la chatte qui parle anglaise'. One of the guests came downstairs and said 'I know this is going to sound odd but I just opened my bedroom window and a little grey cat said 'hello' to me!
She was a clown, she had a medieval appearance and often cropped up in photos unintentionally.
She enjoyed her life to the max and seemed to spread happiness wherever she went. She always made me laugh and I miss her terribly.
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