wedged

People are very good about telling us their own versions of a feline It Gets Better.  She'll offer herself up to be stroked when she's five!  She'll jump in your lap when she's eight!!  One day, when you least expect it, she'll walk up to you and ask to be petted!!!  The horrible fact remains that Bitzi, aka DandyLion, aka The Orange Thing, is - at three and a half - showing no signs of any of the above as yet.  At least she's no longer hiding under the bed - but one can hardly cite this as proof of advancement in socialization, since we've blocked it all off with many plastic storage crates.   Indeed, we can stroke her, in this corralled state, between a bedside cabinet (note the traditional northern New Mexico woven willow twigs) and the wall, but it feels like a rather hollow victory, as she crouches back and cowers at our approach.  She can't even be bribed, face to face, with an illegally imported Waitrose cat treat of freeze dried whitefish (though a cube of the same, left an inch from her pretty little ginger muzzle, disappeared once I was out of the room).  Maybe 2012 will be the breakthrough year?