A marauding infidel has got into our home, where she lives alone, and there has been some serious biffo. I found her hiding inside our bed last night, in pain all over and most unhappy.
We feel terribly guilty; she's stayed faithful to us during our absence for the last two and a half years. She hasn't strayed, gone feral, scratched anything important, or turned the library into a late night jazz hangout for cool cats.
But marauding infidels is a step too far. We've been havering about what to do with her once the house mods start (and don't ask about that) - the answer is one of these less-than-tempting three options - board her, find someone who will take her for six months or so, or (sob) find her a new home. We can't really fix this by getting a magnetic cat door, as that wall will be demolished when the mods start, and there are few options for an alternate position. Also that solution requires her to wear a magnet on a collar, and collars are not much success on her. So we're a bit stuck.
This week she will stay at the vets, recovering from surgery and being safe while we try to work out what to do. We absolutely can't have her at the flat, it is forbidden and we are so incredibly grateful to the uni people for allowing us to stay longer than their usual leasing period, we are not going to upset anyone. M said even if we could have her here, he'd be worried about running her over!
So for now, we are sad and worried and in a big bother about what is the best thing to do. Saint Libby the vet reports that she is recovering from surgery well, and her sooky mama can visit tomorrow afternoon all going well.
M's accident has led us into some strange places, but this is a hard one.
Update: Mrs Puss had surgery for two nasty wounds, and is now recovering. I'm doing a hospital visit shortly to apologise for everything. Meantime my M is in hospital too... a strange week is unrolling...