This is my mum’s cat, Ginge. (Ginge is short for Ginger. Terribly original, isn’t it?)
Ginge adopted my mum. Yes, you did read that right! Back when mum lived on a farm, he just turned up at the house one day. When he first appeared he was awfully timid. He’d creep into the laundy for food when he thought no one was looking, but as soon as he caught sight of anyone he’d run away as far as his little legs could carry him. This went on for months and months and we all assumed he was a wild, untamable thing. But then… He started running away less. Eventually he let mum pat him. Then he began spending more time inside. It took a long while but slowly he became more comfortable with other people too. Mum took him to the vet. He got more confident, even around strangers. Little by little we all gained his trust.
These days Ginge is the smoochiest, friendliest cat you ever could meet. He sleeps on the bed with mum, cuddles up to the dogs and spends a good portion of each day sitting in the flower pot you see above. That’s Ginge’s special pot. It did originally have a plant in it, but he soon claimed it as his own and squished the plant flat. The pot is perfectly cat-sized and positioned in the sunshine.
We believe Ginge is very old and think perhaps he was dumped in one of the farm sheds by someone who no longer wanted him. He was so terribly afraid of people when he first showed up, it’s likely someone was very unkind to him at some point. Happily, that’s all behind him now. Dear old Ginge will spend the rest of his days with my mum, snoozing contentedly in the sunshine by the back door. Just a cat and his pot.
