It’s a universal fact that kittens are contrary. They refuse to appear when you are worried you have lost them, they gorge themselves on one kind of food for a week, then turn up their pretty nose and whiskers and demand something else. They will ignore shop bought toys and attach themselves to three rolled up balls of newspaper and an old tape measure and do large circles around a basket with a soft blanket, preferring to snooze dangling upside down from the ironing board.
I put my three month year old in our spare bedroom at 8pm each evening. It gives me and our old gentleman cat a bit of peace. She has her G Force tour of the living room high places, then gets a look which says “for goodness sake save me from myself and put me to bed”.
So I grab her, and possum tail (her cuddle toy) and take her to a darkened room where there is bed, dry food and access to a litter tray.
The weather here is particularly cold at the moment, so for the last week I have left her a big soft blanket in a heap on the bed, so that she could find a way into it and make a nest.
I also left an empty drawer slightly open in grandma’s big pine dresser, just to see if she would explore. It is a big enough drawer for a newborn baby, and I think it was used for that purpose two centuries ago. I had left an old woollen coat in it; one I had intended to cut up for craft projects.
Five minutes ago I went into the room with a torch to check on her – she was nowhere to be seen. Just as I was about to leave I saw two amber eyes blink from the drawer. Ms Ginger was cuddled up in a cream coat, as cosy as a bug in a rug. Nice to think that yet another baby is occupying the drawer.