Pumpkin is a bit of an emotional mess of a cat. I retrieved him and his sister, Pearl, from a parking lot in New York 18 years ago when they fit in the palm of my hand. Poor old Pumpkin has always had a vacant look in his eyes and is easily spooked. He wants to be held almost constantly and I often have to hold him while working or writing because he seems to need frequent reassurance. He has a very shrill cry. It’s almost an alarm and he sometimes just stands in the middle of the room and screeches while looking off at some imaginary ghost on the ceiling. He also has trouble jumping on and off furniture or window sills and often falls off and then cries. He over-grooms himself so that his belly is nearly bald. He is often inert and his ears remain flattened so that he has the general appearance of Yoda. If left alone for longer than 12 hours he runs and hides when we finally come into the house, and it takes him a few hours to come out and join us.
I had to leave Pumpkin while I visited my mother-in-law yesterday and I’m still waiting for him to relax back into the mushy, sleepy man-cat that he was when I left him yesterday. At the moment he’s under a side table. Soon he will have forgotten why he’s under the table and he will join me and velcro dog for an evening of watching the beeb.