Luckily she hadn't thrown it away at that time, so I managed to salvage the bomb shelter and put it back beside the shoe rack and Daffodil happily went back into it. She didn't want a new box even though we gave her one.
It just isn't the same, you know.
"Home" is where the heart (and smell?) is.
So, all was well until last week when horrors of horrors, the part-time cleaner actually threw out Daffodil's bomb shelter this time and it was garbage collection day.
It was too late when I discovered the bomb shelter missing.
I went out to the road to look for it, but it was nowhere to be found.
The sampah truck had taken it. Oh oh...
Daffodil was SO upset she sat in the porch, out in the open, for the next few days, pining for her bomb shelter and certainly looking very miserable.
I tried another box, but it just wasn't right and she refused to go in, until...
...she finally accepted this other box.
Maybe the height, width and depth is about right, though it isn't deep enough.
But everything was fine. Daffodil was happy again and after more than a year of looking after her and her family, she finally allowed me to pat her. Yes, that's an achievement in itself.
I could pat Daffodil already!! She would lower her body in a yoga down-dog posture and let me pat her as much as I like.
So, everything was going well....until yesterday, when I noticed she had some bruises on both sides of her neck. Now, for minor bruises like that, I know Path-Away works wonders.
If only I could catch her and apply some Path-Away on her, it would heal in a day or two.
If only I could catch her....that's easier said than done.
Now, it seemed that Daffodil was "asking for help", or so I thought. This was because I was sending thoughts to her, saying "I know you have those bruises on your neck and I want to help you, but I need to catch you and apply some medicine on the bruises, would that be okay?"
Daffodil came nearer and strutted about, as though saying, "Yes, sure..." (so I thought).
So I tried. I caught her when she was about to finish her food and held the scruff of her neck while my husband quickly poured Path-Away onto two cotton pads so that I could apply it on both sides of her neck. Daffodil struggled, fluffed up and gosh, she was all muscle.
Only muscle, I think.
And that made it so difficult for me to hold the scruff of her neck. There was hardly any skin for me to get a good grip.
In any case, I quickly rubbed both sides of her neck and hoped I managed to rub on the right spots. Then I had to let her go and she jumped off the kitchen table and stared back at me with those accusing eyes which spoke millions.
"How dare you??? How dare you??? Just because I let you pat me, you did this to me???!!"
Sobs...what could I say?
So I just let her be.
She didn't run far, though. She ran out to the porch, but after that, came back to the dining room and groomed herself thoroughly.
And appeared quite happy after that, actually.
This morning, I tried it again.
This time she was so smart, she kept looking back at me while she was eating. And the moment she saw me holding the Path-Away bottle, she fled for her life.
Finally, she came back for food ("greed" can be useful in such cases) and I caught her, did the same, but had to keep it shorter than yesterday as Daffodil was really, really angry this time.
I shall let her be for now as I think the bruises don't look so bad today.
I guess with this, all the months of built-up trust has gone down the drain...
If only Daffodil was as easy-going as her children.
Perhaps they have experienced less of street life, so they trust more easily.
Daffodil has lived for 10 years on the street. She is definitely very street-wise.
Well, at least we settled the bomb shelter issue, so that's a plus point!