Goldie

Goldie, my peculiar but beloved cat, has certain affectations -- she prefers, most times, her own society and shuns her housemates. But, sometimes, she cuddles or will join the others to laze around -- in the living room, the dining room, a hallway, or in the kitchen. An inside cat who, early on, suffered the indignity of "the operation," she asserts her independence by darting into the front yard when a door is opened -- and she pointedly ignores any calls or pleas to come inside. But when the door shuts and no one is around, she is fearful, immediately climbing up into the ash tree. And there she stays until I come to coax her down. She may climb high up and, finally, shakily manage a descent to allow me to pick her up and carry her back inside. She never leaves the yard but does enjoy ignoring me when I am in a hurry. She will dart about and run from one side of the yard to the other. For her, it's only an infrequent game. And, as my treasured pet, she certainly deserves to play while testing the limit of my affectionate, chagrined commitment.