There is a very small new member of our household.
I was beginning to think that she would never come. This year, for some reason, kitten litters were just not happening. I wore a path to every vet's door, every notice board, every pet shop window for weeks. And then, quite suddenly, my good friend Eileen rang to say that a local farmer had a tiny female kitten which he was willing to give to a really good home.
Rushed down to see him, went through the expected pot of tea and slices of cake while discussing life generally at the kitchen table by the glowing stove, but at last was allowed to see and take into my arms the miniscule bundle of terrified fur.
When we finally got her home, she spent the first few hours perched on the highest place she could find, while Sophy, thrilled and breathless, sat below, pleading eyes fixed on this new friend.
Kittens, however, being kittens, it wasn't long before she was exploring every inch of the living room (in which it was deemed advisable she should spend a few days before venturing anywhere else).
You will be glad to learn that she took to the concept of knitting and yarn balls with delight and concentration. Clearly we can expect great things here.
I just wanted to let you know. Sophy Wackles is ecstatic, although little kitten is still a bit wary of her, and inclined to be standoffish. Not for long, she won't. Not when they get out in the garden together.
For some odd reason, though, littlest one is absolutely terrified of Muffy the Yarnslayer. Now Muffy is getting elderly, and you will recall that eye accident earlier in the year, so she doesn't see all that well either. Yet she has only to bumble through the room in a vague way for the kitten to positively explode with hisses and yowls and shrieks of rage. Muffy isn't bothered, but I wonder what is sparking this hate off?
And no, she hasn't been named yet. Started with Minoushka, but then switched to Brogeen. This is the name of a famous leprechaun who lives not far from here (turn down the lane where the thorn tree leans out from the bank, cross the stream by the wide stepping stones, and you'll find his little house tucked under the roots of the big tree) and he was quite willing to have Kitten borrow his name. Sure any time she's passing, can't she tap on the door and I'll give her a saucer of milk and welcome.
Since then she has been Jezebel, Babette, Mishka, Cuddle Bundle, Little Fiend, Ming, Scarlett, Roisin Dubh, Carlotta, and a dozen more names, but nothing as yet is quite right. Suggestions welcomed!
