Elora and the frog met the day we brought her home from shelter. She was a wide eyed bundle of grey fuzz, all of 12 weeks old. They bonded instantly. Possibly it was because the frog was one of the only items in the condo that was actually smaller than her. Or it may have been because she was comforted by the only other furry being around the place. Or it may have been the catnip. The catnip, however, is long gone but the friendship has stayed.
All types of other toys have come and gone. Mice that squeak, balls with bells, crazy coils and even other soft fuzzy toys of an animal nature. They would command her attention for a short period of time. It was almost as if she were patronizing these shiny new toys by gracing them with her presence for a week or two. Ultimately, however, each one met the same fate: discarded, untouched for weeks in a small corner of the apartment as thin veil of dust formed over their surface. She creeps past these toys, without so much as a glance in their direction, as she zooms in on her target for a gleeful pouncing: her frog.
Remarkably, after almost three years, the frog has remained intact. I think, at one point, it did have two eyes and its fur was somewhat more plush, but overall it has stood the test of time. And the test of Elora. She would attack that frog with such zeal that I had to remind myself it was just an inanimate object. But after every attack, I would find her sleeping with her small green friend tucked under a paw or curled up with her in her bed. They are inseparable and make quite a pair.
Often during the night, I will hear a soft meow and feel her small, warm body cuddle up beside my leg as she settles in for a sleep. And I know there has not been one addition to the bed but two: a tired little cat and her green stuffed frog.
contribution for weekend cat blogging, hosted this week by the sour dough.