**pulls out a fresh tissue**
Back in early December, we adopted a new cat. Not sure why, it just felt like the right thing to do at the time.
Creature of impulse, me.
Anyway, we adopted this little lady here, Treasure.
After going AWOL for a couple of weeks, she came back and settled into a routine of sleeping in my bed at night, eating on the windowsill and spending her days hiding under the trailer. Suddenly and without warning this week just gone, she decided the time had come to join the household by announcing her presence at dinnertime and demanding a share. Now she dines in the kitchen and does a sweet little Oliver impersonation asking for more. It breaks my heart to tell her "get fucked, you greedy little tart". OK, I lie, it doesn't break my heart at all being the person sleeping with cat farts.
The same night Treasure showed her face again, we were ourselves adopted by this extremely elderly, emaciated and ever so slightly loony blighter here - now named Big Puss and affectionately known as Gerry (Geriatric). Cos he is.
He wandered in the door right on dinner one night and made himself at home. We aren't sure whether he was off on his trip to Rainbow Bridge and was sidetracked by the smell of freshly cooked schnitzel (yes, it WAS schnitzel night that night) or whether some complete arsewipe had dumped him thinking he was on his last legs and not worth paying a cattery to house him over the holidays in case he snuffed it, but either way he decided that our house was his house, and so was the neighbours at the other end of the driveway.
Jerry can't chew very well, has no front teeth, has his tongue hanging out all the time, can't remember when he last ate (so eats frequently) and gets gently removed from the neighbours house at night in case he carks it in their lounge. I guess they aren't very into dead cat first thing in the morning. He has a real thing for milk and finely chopped schnitzel and doesn't even deign to sniff soaked cat biscuits. Oh the peccadilloes of age and the lengths mere humans will go to to accommodate one such as he. Lew seems to like him, saying it's about time we had at least one cat that would sit on a lap, even if it was only long enough to cadge some kai. The old bugger even caught a bird last week, leading us to believe our lot of lazy excuses for felinity should watch carefully and take notes on the act of fending for oneself in a pinch.
I think they will be more likely to sit on the edge of the trough and wish that today's newest acquisitions would come close enough to sample with dry feet:
Yes, tadpoles and almost-frogs. They went in the big trough with all the goldfish because the bath is full of paradise fish fry which might get eaten.
I can tell you what the cats won't be eating tonight, our stash of this, caught by all the boys whilst in Thames last weekend
and Nushie won't be getting any, either
even though she loaned her support during clean up when the boat came home by staying out of the way.
Oh the joys of summer, eh!
But seriously, 5 freaking cats....
