Old Socrates

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He sits there, staring at me.  I narrow my eyes at him, he narrows them back.  Oh good!  We’re off to a good footing then.

Contrary to popular belief, the narrowing of eyes is not a sign of hostility – I’ve shown him he can trust me, clearly he is reciprocating.

I slowly crawl up to him, he watches me warily.  I sit on the floor at his feet.  After about 5 minutes, Socrates jumps up off the couch – he’s decided he really likes me as he’s decided he wants to move our relationship forward – by trying to sit on my lap.  No wait!  Not my lap, what’s this?  Ah ha!  He’s trying to stretch himself up the entire length of my body.
NOW what?  Oh, he’s inviting himself into my bedroom now.  He jumps on the bed – looks like he belongs there.

Do I allow this?  After all, we haven’t even been together 24 hours!  But then I take it as a huge compliment – from a former street cat.

Yes, Socrates is another NineLives rescuee and is staying with me for Feb & March. Socrates was found wandering the streets of Omonia, a rough district of Athens.  He’d been a house cat as he wasn’t streetwise at all and was nearly run over several times in his discombobulated state.  Along comes NineLives: they rescue him, take him to a vet to be cleaned up, de-worm and inject him and then he needs a temporary home…this is where I come in.

He likes to have a LOT of affection, food, sleep, food, oh!  and to sleep in the bathroom sink sometimes (this scared the living daylights out of me at 3am, when I had to go to the loo).

Old Socrates
Old Socrates

Keep up the good work NineLives – we love you, and I know Socrates does, for rescuing him.

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  1. I should add – I love Socrates too. It’s impossible not to. He’s a male tart – roles onto his back for a belly rub at any conceivable moment.
    He had to have an anaesthetic the other day, due to having a teeth clean. I have never seen anything so sweet, yet heartbreaking – watching a cat come out of anaesthesia.

  2. He sounds very friendly! We have a rescue dog – I love cats, but have a bad track record of them getting flattened on the quiet little cul-de-sac where I live! Rescue animals are the best, because it’s sort of like solving two problems with one stone – rehoming an animal that needs a home, and finding a companion for someone who wants one. I volunteered in a clinic in Thailand that did a lot of rehoming – inevitably of course, we ended up with an ever increasing menagerie ourselves!
    Enjoying the blog!

    • Even better to have an animal lover as a fan – and an author of such a fantastic novel “That bear ate my pants!” (look it up and buy, people – it’s really very, very good).
      I marvel at how I speak to babies as if they were the same as me: “Alright there boy?” and yet, when it comes to cats (and Socrates), I end up a squealing ninny?
      I know I lov cats – but I better watch out I don’t turn into one of ‘those’ women – hmmm…

  3. There was a little restaurant in the Plaka where I took my late lunch or early supper — my one post-breakfast meal of the day. I usually took a table against an iron railing protecting a ruin across the street that was overrun with feral cats who would sometimes cage food from me through the fence, and for whom I wrote:

    Cats in the portico,
    Cats on the loose;
    Cats urinating
    on Olympian Zeus.

    It was my impression that concern for animals as pets was a city thing that did not much obtain in the countryside.


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