My Phoebe
Phoebe has spent most of the time since we got home underneath a dresser in the bathroom. And I'm happy she has a place she feels safe, so long as she eats, and gives me a chance to train her for the litterbox. She will come around to feeling friendly in time.
So now, at 3.30 am, I have awoken and can sleep no longer. I just decided to check on her to see if she's nibbled on the food yet. And as I opened the door, my footsteps guided by the blue light of the full moon, I was greeted with the sight of her furry little behind sticking comfortably out from underneath the dresser (an improvement, earlier she was completely hidden beneath it). When I reached down to stroke her tail she hissed--not once, but twice. I consider this a wonderful development. It shows me she's regained her energy and she's ready to put up a fight. A fight I can deal with. I did neglect to mention that all of my seven cats were tamed from the wild. I am quite used to the drill!
As my eyes adjusted to the light and I looked around and realised that little Phoebe's already done some exploring. Guest towels on the shelves way above the dresser have been curiously knocked off their hangers and are strewn about. It doesn't look like she's touched the food much, but that will come. And lo and behold, my wild little kitty only just taken from a back alley yestermorning figured out to use the litterbox without my help. What a genius!
I think the name "Phoebe" is going to fit her perfectly. Wild, like the huntress Artemis, yet also inspired by moonlight (inspired in different ways, of course, and I mean no disrespect to the great goddess by insinuating that her moonlight inspiration is the same as little Phoebe's knocking towels off hooks and pooping in a litter box!). And, animals
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