Monday, September 10, 2012


Two weeks ago tomorrow, our beloved, daft Blue Cat was hit by a car. We think she was returning from a raid on the bins of the fish and chip shop on the main road, and it looked like she wouldn't have known anything about what hit her. In some ways, that's how I'd like to go.

We've been devastated by the loss, even now expecting her to prowl through the catflap at any moment, "prooting" and asking for food with her customary lick-lick-bite-bite. Our other cat, Shaggy, has sat watching the top of next door's garage, where Blue Cat liked to sleep, as if wondering why she's still not been down for her tea.

But we now have a new cat, Stevens (yes, named after both Yusuf Islam and The Green Death):

Our new cat, Stevens
Stevens is a much shier, more cowardly cat than Blue Cat, or at least she was. Since yesterday she's been hollering at the top of her voice in the middle of the night, and craving of attention. Which suggests she hasn't yet been neutered and is currently on heat. So we've booked a trip to the vet for a few weeks' time.

Poor old Shaggy is rather terrified of her, I think because she wants something he cannot provide. Kenneth Williams and Hattie Jacques? That's my household at the moment.

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