Day before yesterday I was surprised to see Pushi lying on the white mat in the bathroom. In a change of behavior she’d squeezed through the partially open window. Usually she sits patiently at the front door, awaiting her breakfast. I went to the other room to get the Nikon from my bag, and when I returned I got another surprise. She was sitting in the sink, turning her head very slowly, looking here, then there, as if in a trance.
I filled her bowl with dry crunchies and wet glop from a foil packet. She did not react with eagerness as I was pouring the stuff out, as she usually does. No, she just sat watching, virtually motionless, until I put the bowl nearby. She rose up slowly, stretched, and took a few cautious, rather indifferent sniffs and just one delicate nibble. Then she sat back down. I put the bowl outside. She did not follow with quick steps and eager meowing, as she usually does.
I picked her up. Her fur was dusty, scruffy, ungroomed, quite unlike the pristine condition it usually is in. She sniffed again at the bowl, did not nibble this time, then slowly ambled toward the stone base of the walnut tree. She leaned against it, reminiscent of her energetic rubbing against things on the property, marking them as her own. Then she sat down. A few minutes later, she very slowly wandered off. I haven’t seen her since.