Belle of the Ball

Yesterday, Steve and I took a leisurely drive in really perfect weather, down to New Hampshire, where, in a little town near Center Harbor, we stopped to interview Belle, and to admire the new crop of Kelimcoons kittens, of which there were many, and busy.

Belle, who was presented as “shy” decided rather quickly that we weren’t the least bit scary, consented to enter the cat carrier, and accompanied us on our return trip to Maine.  Aside from a complaint or two at the very beginning, as we were negotiating the remove from the rather tricky driveway, and another, as we made the transition from Route 25 to Route 35, she was completely calm, and napped for most of the three-hour return trip.

Once arrived, she confessed that she was not quite up to meeting new subjects cats. Staff therefore prepared the Retiring Room for her use, and she withdrew behind the washing machine to recruit her strength.

Staff visited her several times on the overnight, once for an extended cuddle session — Belle was also billed as a “big lap cat,” and this seems to be so, and this morning, she once more undertook a journey, this to the office of her new physician, who made certain that she had taken no harm from her exertions, and recorded her weight at 15.1 pounds.

That detail taken care of, she returned to the Cat Farm, where she immediately began a systematic and thorough inventory.  Scrabble hissed — not unexpectedly — when Bell entered Steve’s office.  Belle did not return the favor, but gazed upon her with wide eyes, and an expression that seemed to say, “Why, look; a tiny cat,” before she continued with her inventory.

Trooper, I am sorry to say, hissed at Belle when she came into my office.  Belle didn’t even seem to hear it.  She jumped into the copilot’s chair as if she knew exactly what it was for, and that she had perfect right to use it.  Gave me a couple of head-bumps, showed the belly and went off to count the linens in the bedroom.

Right now, she’s resting under the headboard, a time-honored resting place for those who wish to insure their privacy.  Trooper and Sprite are with me — Trooper on top of the file cabinet, and Sprite in the red basket on the desk.  Scrabble is behind the suitcase under the desk in Steve’s office — another time-honored private place.

And peace reigns over all.

Steve’s gone to the grocery store; I’ve started the laundry, and will be doing some chores around the house.  Possibly reading will happen.  When I finish the current book, it will be time to read Dragon in Exile and Alliance of Equals back-to-back, and so drift back into working mode.

Tomorrow, at the unghodly hour of 8 a.m., we shall have the sheetrock guy, who will contrive a back wall, and put on the first of three coats of paint.  Once he’s done, we will, hopefully, be quit of contractors for the foreseeable future.

Which will be nice.

Today’s blog title brought to you by Kelimcoons Belle of the Ball, and Leroy Anderson.  Here’s your link.

Some photos from earlier, after Belle’s triumphant return from the vet’s:

Belle exiting the bottom level of the cat tree
Belle exiting the bottom level of the cat tree
Sprite watching Belle exit the cat tree, from a safe distance, naturally.
Sprite watching Belle exit the cat tree, from a safe distance, naturally.
I've never seen Trooper frown, but he is clearly not pleased.
I’ve never seen Trooper frown, but he is clearly not pleased.
Scrabble's not delighted, either.
Scrabble’s not delighted, either.

2 thoughts on “Belle of the Ball”

  1. That’s a remarkably peaceful integration! Thus far, anyway. Congratulations on the new clanmember, and I hope the fur continues not to fly!

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