I don't think it was deodorant since I never wear any on weekends, though there could be some trace from Friday morning. I don't think it's attachment since it's too soon. Frankly, I think it's desperation.

Goodness knows how many years she has been living on the streets, certainly long enough not to understand soft furniture, and, weak as she is, she bolted out of the front door the moment I opened it on Sunday. She hadn't turned feral, but I think it's been years since she had physical contact with humans. She purrs the moment I walk into a room, and she must be able to smell or sense me because she has cataracts.

On Thursday evening, I left her in the bedroom alone to get used to things and she ignored the sofa, the bed and even the cat beds on the floor, simply hunkering down on the wood floor. When I slept in her room on Friday night, I carried her into the bed and she gradually got more and more comfortable with cuddling, though she got down in the night and ended up on the floor again. By Sunday, she was following me everywhere, getting up by me whenever I sat down, talking at me, and just cuddling in as close as she could. She's a heartbreaker.