Daffodil has several "bomb shelters". These are boxes that she feels safe in. As you know, Daffodil has lived on the streets for more than 10 years as a street cat before we moved here and provided her with a safe place to, hopefully, call "home", at least a safe place to run back to in case of any danger on the street or in the playground which she sometimes frequents.
It has taken us almost two years now, to gain her trust and she is comfortable coming into the house. Rosie and Ginger trust us, but Daffodil is still a teeny weeny reserved. You can't blame her. She has survived in the neighbourhood for more than a decade, lost every single litter of kittens except for Ginger and Rosie. We got her spayed after we moved here.
The "bomb shelters" are hence, very important for Daffodil.
She has one in the kitchen which is more of a "rain shelter", but her favourite one is the one in the porch, beside the shoe rack.
But something happened to Daffodil's favourite bomb shelter a few weeks ago.
The ceiling looked like it had been stepped on by warring cats and it's torn.
We thought we'd just replace it with another box, but no, Daffodil simply refused to go in.
She slept outside the box.
So we put the old box back, as torn and tattered as it is...
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.
Animals have few needs. There's wisdom to be learnt in this.
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