Jack-in-the-Pink

In the stories of the Ginge Club Pink’s always getting into scrapes and running into trouble.    She’s small enough to fit into tiny culverts and she can slide behind dressers and wardrobes, and slip through gaps in floorboards or behind holes in wainscots.  I won’t say she’s as small as a mouse, but she’s got to be one of the tiniest cats who ever lived and she has ways of getting into weird, uncommon places.  It’s one of her quirks.  In the stories she ends up in the sewers, with the skullion rats, and Alleycat has to save her, and in the real world she climbs higher than a cat her size has any right to and hides herself in places you wouldn’t credit.  If we put a new shelf up it doesn’t matter how high it is, Pink has to get on it.   If we put a box or a bundle down on the worktop she’s got to climb inside.  A day or two ago she climbed into the box in the photo and when we came into the kitchen she bobbed up like jack-in the box and called us to come and see how clever she’d been.   I think she likes the attention, and no one, not even Alleycat, can get her to behave herself.

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