Foundling
We’d been hearing a kitten crying from the empty house next door for the past two days, so today my mum and I went over to investigate. She came running towards us, mewing loudly, the moment we appeared.
We carried her home and put her in the back bathroom with a box, an old T-shirt and some shredded newspaper for kitty litter. She wouldn’t keep quiet while my mum was trying to tutor a student, but promptly fell asleep purring once put on my mum’s lap and stroked. She’s friendly, not in the least bit scared of us, and spent most of the evening stalking my feet.
I don’t know if we can keep her or not, because I used to have all sorts of allergies when I was a child, and we don’t know if I’ve grown out of them yet. We’re also rather fond of our furniture and would rather not have it scratched to bits by a feisty cat.
But I kind of love her already.
I would too.
I’m ashamed to say that, through the bleary, pre-9am eyes I am using this morning, the title of this entry read: Fondling.
But on reading it, it wasn’t a disappointment. I hope you and your new family member are very happy together.
Perhaps Michelle you should be concerned. Being by far the youngest in the family you’ve had the indulged, pampered treatment pretty well wrapped up. But with a cute kitten you face some stiff competition.
You’re going to keep her, aren’t you? :) What’s her name?
Pussy Pussy Cat
Kelly,
I’ll admit that without Michelle’s help I’d never have picked up on this reference to our relationship’s ignoble beginings. Some memories are better left repressed.
The suggested name was passed by Ireland’s lax censorship board. However I doubt it would meet parental approval. Besides it might be a boy.