Last Thursday I drove in the early evening to pick up ”Stompa”. Stompa is in fact born in our closet, when we lived downtown Oslo. He was kept very strictly by his mother and hidden away most of the time. At age 4 month, he was given away to the mother of my children – i.e. my x-wife.
The last couple of years, Stompa has been on Vacation in our Summerhouse, when we have been travelling abroad. He like to be there with our two cats – they’re more or less Manx (tailless) all the three of them.
Well I picked him up and placed him in his cage beside me in the car. And started driving. He did not like to drive, something he expressed loudly. In the beginning. But after some minutes driving he calmed down.
Back home, I carried him into the kitchen and opened the cage just in front of the dish for food. And he ran away. Completely dissapearing. Where the heck was the cat hiding? No sound. Invisible. Food did not tempt him at all. Just silence. Our two cats did not care. He was somewhere in the appartement, for sure.
We went to bed without no sign of him. Just fallen asleep, I wake up to this awful ”catsinging”. At least, he was alive inspecting his new territory.
Next afternoon, entering from work, we found him. Behind my office desk. Again we tried to comfort him with a dish filled with pollock. No movement. No reaction. No sound. Completly anorexia.
At 10 pm, he suddenly went into the living room. Walked straight up to me. And asked for coziness. What a sudden change. And then he layed down, Rolling and streching and playing with his two fellow she-cats. And then he went into the ”office” again, jumped up in the sofa convinced he was given a new home. His private home.
On Sunday I returned him. This time so relaxed in the car, you could barely believe it was the same ”Stompa” I picked up only a couple of Days ago.