Wednesday, 30 September 2009

important announcement for fans of the BK

I am no longer 'the black kitten'. I am Scooter, the very special kitten who belongs with Rachel and Millie and Lottie and the dog.

If I stop scooting under chairs when anyone comes near me, I may get a different name, but Scooter will do nicely for now. Later, Rachel will tell you more about my decision to stay here and not move to Ashington. She's too excited to write anything just now, but just keeps making funny squeaking sounds at me. I may have to use the catnip spray on her.

Tuesday, 29 September 2009

new toys r us

Take an old plastic shopper from Ikea, a floppy plush bear reduced to £3 in Sainsbury's, two young cats, and turn a wet afternoon into a glorious, fast-moving and rumbustious play session. Too fast-moving for me - blurry pictures unavoidable.

Tired now. Kitten and bear need to sleep.

Monday, 28 September 2009

crowd-pleasing with Millie

We're bored.

Here's what we do (pssssswsssssswsssss.... great leotards already.... great bodies too.... make it look real.... cat Smackdown.....)

Ready, ref? Don't look so nervous; it's all staged, you know.

Ready? On your marks!

Get set.....

Off the ropes! Go!

Go for it! The crowd loves us!

We'll sign autographs now.

kitten or no kitten? That is the question

Someone wants him. One Home Visitor has approved the prospective adopter, while another (the one who has met him several times, and knows that he is still timid in some ways) has expressed reservations.

I am in the hands of the agency, whose kitten he is, and decisions are made elsewhere. I'll keep you posted.

Sunday, 27 September 2009

small but sweet

First accept (most graciously) the carton of elderberries handpicked somewhere near here by Roger and Tim on their excursion to the English Borders. Weigh (11 ounces), and find a recipe and ingredients to make a small amount of jelly. Thankfully, this does not need to be another rhubarb and ginger marathon, where the neighbourhood had to be canvassed for spare jars.

Get the stockpot out and wish again that I had a proper jam-making pan.

Use some of those cheap but so-useful hooks from Ikea and a wooden spoon to hang the jelly bag to drip overnight. Hope that Millie isn't too interested when alone and unsupervised. Note from the photo that the cupboard door needs wiping clean of juicy fingerprints.

Not bad - almost a litre of dark, dark juice. Resist squeezing the bag for more. Now for sugar, lemons, boiling up, and cold saucers....

And there we are: three little jars. Elderberries, apples, lemon juice and sugar. Wonky labels.

Easy. Thank you, Roger and Tim.

Friday, 25 September 2009


Today has seen another advance in the black kitten's development: he has taken to play fighting with a little too much relish. He gives Millie a light tap on the leg to initiate a game of wrestling, and then suddenly, it becomes a great deal more realistic, with cries and posturing that could almost be blood-curdling if he wasn't still small enough to fit in my pocket. He pounces with ferocity and won't back down. Millie joins in for a while, then I see her becoming unnerved, and she backs away. Poor old Millie; her life is in turmoil at the moment, and I shall keep a careful eye on her.

Karen at PARRT tells me that there has been no interest in the kitten so far, although this may be because their website is hard to find; it seems that the young gladiator may be with me for some time.....

Thursday, 24 September 2009


I feel old and tired, and a bit sad, today. I don't know what's the matter with me.

Maybe I do; maybe it's to do with this little sweetie.

38 years ago, the Lovely Son was born.
It wasn't a joyful experience, and I had to wait a whole day, despite asking repeatedly "When can I see my baby?", before he was brought to me, and then only after a change of shift when the new staff realised that he should have been out of the nursery hours ago and in the arms of his young mother. I still fight feelings of bitterness towards the staff of that famous maternity hospital for their carelessness, and towards myself for not making a terrible scene, or at least being more assertive.

I feel older on this day than I ever do on my own birthday.

But I've been busy. I have labelled three little jars of elderberry jelly that I made yesterday.

I have been for acupuncture. No picture of me in my undies with needles stuck in me.... Be thankful.

I have shown the kitten where to eat with the big girls, out of reach of a certain greedy sneak-thief dog, and put the little step-stool in place for him to climb; he's too small to jump up yet.

Lottie likes to check on the kitten biscuits. I don't mind; she's not an enthusiastic eater, and I welcome her tucking into anything.

I have taken down the horrible cage. Lottie helped. Then she went for a lie down.

Her chair is next to mine, so that she can reach out and tap me when she wants my attention.
Such lovely big paws.

Millie is off duty too.

I have tidied up - again. Cats and kittens create as much mess with their hideously-coloured toys as toddlers do; tidiness is a fleeting phenomenon round here. The kitten is prowling; he is bored by the sleepiness of the girls, and will soon have those toys out of the basket and all over the house again.

After this mug of tea, I shall go out for a long, quiet walk with the dog, under the trees, whose leaves are just beginning to turn, and breathe the cool autumnal air. And that will be enough for today. After all, I have somehow, mysteriously, become old enough to have a 38-year-old child!

Wednesday, 23 September 2009

and on Wednesdays....

....we like to loll about on the beds.
We wash.

We gossip.

We pose for the camera.

The dog isn't allowed on our bed. She has her own. It's called a dog pie, and in winter the human puts a lid on it, made of fleece.

Then no one can see how undignified the dog looks when she's asleep.

Later, Millie tries the cage for size. She wonders if she could become feral and get lots of attention too.

Tuesday, 22 September 2009

playing house

A kitten house! Just my size too.

A bit flimsy; just as well I'm small and lithe.

Lovely. Fits nicely.

Here she comes: "Can I have a go?" Can't she see it's for kittens, not pudding-bombs?

In a minute, podge. I have a fish to bite.

Patience, plumptious one! I'll give you a go in a minute.

Look at that rear end! Doesn't she know the paparazzi are watching? She'll never make it....

Well, she made it. Sort of.

Sort of....
Give up, chubby chops.

And here's a kitten tunnel! Lovely. Fits nicely.

"Can I have a go?"

Related Posts with Thumbnails