I’m housesitting in the suburbs of Wellington. I have to feed a cat each morning at 7:00 AM.
She’s 18 years old, irritable and set in her ways. She has a routine and I must follow it, or she roams the hallway crying like a banshee. It’s pretty cute.
The tips of her ears were cut off because of skin cancer. She doesn’t shed hair, she molts. And sometimes she smells like urine.
I’ve been tweeting about my days with the cat for the last three weeks.
As her days are limited I try to make her happy. I hope she lasts until this Thursday, which is my last day housesitting.
