It has been 17 months since the Gold Prince was allowed to come into the house. Murphy was pretty much a feral cat when I first saw him on the porch that cold November day. I knew it would take awhile to "re-domesticate" him as he showed all the traits of a once cared for cat, but with some very serious trust issues. We have survived 2 winters together now and we are finally at the stage where he does not flip out when I pull my camera out and start taking photos of his antics. He no longer runs away when I enter a room or drop my boot or open the fridge. Progress has been very slow, but steady. Murphy is torn between being outside and stalking the fields 24/7 and sleeping in a comfortable place. Daylight savings and his own personal requirements have made me a very early riser so he can be the early bird that gets the first mouse of the day. Since no calves were born today I thought I would share a few recent photos of this very unusual character that I share my space with.
Murphy will look out several different windows before sitting at the door and asking to go out. If it is raining or the trees are moving because of the wind, he will not leave the house. He is a better weatherman then the weathermen.
The Gold Prince doesn't sit AT the door to be let out, he sits beside the door so his private valet will tend to the door so he can leave in the style he is accustomed to.
I tried for months to get a photo of this, but he always heard me coming and would exit like the wind.
This is why I feel he once belonged to a man. This cat will not drink from a bowl or anything other than the toilet. When I returned from Indiana the toilet was empty of water. Of course it was nicely decorated with dry cat paw prints all over the seat, floor and rug.
This is when I knew that he finally trusted me. I was only 2 feet away while trying to get a decent shot of this very opinionated cat face. Of course I had to take 10 of them to get one decent photo. He obliged.
What I did not expect was to return from my trip and find him sprawled out on my bed, oblivious to me rolling in my luggage and starting to unpack. He did not run, he did not get "spooky," he did not stand with his hackles up and give me the "evil eye." Something had changed. In a good way. However, now every night he boldly hogs the bed, as he wants the center of it and refuses to move over. I lay in my tiny corner of the bed and smile. 17 months wasn't long at all.