The (still) unnamed kitty whom I keep calling with different names all the time is probably the shiest kitten I've ever known. She jumps at every little movement around her, at every louder sound made and at every approach my sister or I make.
The first morning she spent in my house, my neighbour was performing the dengue spray. It was super loud and she was totally terrified. She managed to climb the bookcase, which was very tall, and sat on top of a range of my thick Jamie Oliver cookbooks.
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at the bookcase |
Then a few days ago I was looking for a bag to contain a present for my mother, found it and threw the rest of the bags on the floor. She took it as her safe haven for days, feeling comfortable to sleep inside it.
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one of her secret sleeping place |
Now she is more comfortable with me. She starts eating a lot. When she is hungry she makes noises so that I would move my arse downstairs and fix her some meal. When she's lonely, she'll rub herself on my feet and hope that I will pick her up on my lap and pat her neck.
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still highly alerted |
But she's still got that awareness in her eyes. Like she doesn't trust me wholly. That's absolutely understandable, especially after I was mad at her for
pooping in my bedroom. :P But she's getting to like people. And hopefully when Vincent comes back from France next Monday, she'll behave herself.
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