Nine cat lives (part 7A) la Francaise

In the summer of 1995 I had to wear a torso-brace of plaster for 2 months, because of an accident. You can read that post and see the pictures here.

In spite of my limited possibilies to move around we drove from the Netherland to France to celebrate our holidays. With the passenger seat on the lying position. I couldn't sit straight in the car because then the front edge of the plaster corset pushed on my thighs. And that caused a push on the top edge higher into my armpits.
At that time for some reason, I often pondered about the question why cartoon characters, after having been stripped of their clothes, always ended up dressed in a rain barrel ... Me too could not wear a lot of clothes anymore. A skirt with an elastic band and a giant t-shirt.

A few weeks later on our way back, we wanted to spend the night in a Formula 1 Motel. One of those almost fully automated hotels on the skirts of the city, which you pay with your credit card. A key and room number then comes from a vending machine.
When we went back to our car after we did the payment, to pick up our cardboard box (those days we were too poor for a decent suitcase ;) we saw a black-and-white kitten sitting a few meters away from our parking lot. A young one. Very skinny, with a remarkably loud voice and piercing gaze. We tried to lure her with (of course) French cheese. We didn't carry anything else in the car. She attacked it like a starving wolf.
And ah you know ... how are these things going? We looked at each other and silently said: "Shall we ...?"
We hid her in the cardboard box and smuggled her into the hotel room. Not that there was hotel staff to watch, but why not make it a bit more exciting, isn't it?
She loved it and walked loudly purring over the two bunk beds. But of course you can not get through the night on French cheese only.

Through the window, in the far distance we could see a big Hypermarché. A French department store of American size, located along the main road, sitting on a football field of asphalt. They probably would sell all kinds of cat food, but it was already about 9:30 PM. We could not see if they were still open. My mister ran to it by foot, because the route through the pasture looked shorter than taking the highway by car.

He returned after 45 minutes. With cans of catfood.
After the meal the cat pooped nicely in the sink. We felt that this was not only a sign of refinement, but also a sign of her approval to us. Yes, the judgment of young parents often becomes very ... eh, primitive.
The kitten kept on giving head butts, loud purring and kneading her paws through the night.
That summer was very hot in Europe. And I still wore my corset of plaster and lay on my back, with my tongue glued onto my palate, staring at the ceiling of the Formula 1 room.
When the horizon started to light up, the cat finally got tired and rolled up. Exactly in the stomach-gap of my corset.
I do have a picture of this ... but I'm not sure of really posting it.
Okay, here is a cropped image.

1995

We called her Pini.
An abbreviation of Pinimoes.
A slight reversal of Minipoes. Which is Dutch for Mini puss.

Pini's story is too long for one blog. She will get a part 2. An maybe even a part 3. But first there are other cats waiting for their 'acte de presence'.

Nine cat lives (part 6) short and intense
Nine cat lives (part 5) the wise cat
Nine cat lives (part 4) the reluctant cat
Nine cat lives (part 3) the Forest cat
Nine cat lives (part 2) the Peeër
Nine cat lives (part 1) the Gentleman

#animalphotography @photocontests by @juliank

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