Wednesday’s post was in the post-queue unfinished, and a little impromptu socialising meant that it got posted without its final few paragraphs. Oops. Since it seemed to be liked, we’ll leave it there.

The snow is falling outside in intermittent bursts, Athena is curled up on my lap, and our new home is warm and cosy. It’s a good life.

My little kitten is not so little any more, but she still doesn’t like fish based food – she even turned her nose up at a crayfish tail on Thursday. However, cooking pulled pork in the slow cooker was very intriguing. I have a sneaking suspicion she was cuddling into the slow cooker when my back was turned.

She has settled into the new flat amazingly well, and has a few new routines. The top shelf of the new wardrobe, filled with cosy jumpers and t-shirts is one of her favourite places to be and she cries when she thinks I’m excluding her from the warmth. I ran a lavender scented bath which she fell in, and was most unhappy about. It hasn’t stopped her playing in the bath or preferring to drink from the running taps (which she now does by dipping her paw into the water and licking the water off, having snorted running water up her nose one too many times). She also quite likes the big new window that looks out onto a tree where two magpies roost (although the robin who comes to taunt her is less of a favourite).

She has, in the past few weeks, become incredibly vocal. Always a chirper, she shouts at me for every little thing now. When she’s in the hall by herself, when she wants the birds to come, especially when she spots me getting ready to go out. Her every want is expressed in very vocal style. Sometimes she just likes to sing to the ceiling I think.

The hope is that next Friday a little snip or two might settle those raging hormones . . .


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