We have a new boss around here. She’s called Luna, and she’s two years old. Her previous staff had to leave the island and move to a flat in a city, which is no life for a cat accustomed to freedom in Garafia. So here she is.
She’s different from Chai, of course. She’ll accept being stroked and even purr, but she doesn’t like being picked up and won’t snuggle, at least not yet. She sleeps on my bed, but down by my foot. She’ll turn her head when we say her name, but she won’t come when called.
We planned to keep her inside for two days after she arrived, to make sure she knows it’s home. She made it clear that she wasn’t too thrilled with that, although it wasn’t the continuous loud protest I feared. We expected to let her out today, but the annual car rally is going right past our front door. We agreed that there’s far too much chance of her getting startled, running in panic, and then not knowing the way home. She’s going to have to wait until Sunday to explore.
