Dilemma

Now that I only have Twiglet left, I've been planning to keep her as a sole cat, then foster for a local rescue centre when she's gone. I might even give my self a few weeks or months of zero commitments, I thought.

Then last week that same local rescue centre (which is where Twiglet and her mother Mitzi came from over 15 years ago) showed a pair of unfortunates on Twitter. One black cat, one white, 12 years old, they were owned by a drunken druggy who has gone to jail. They were neglected and underweight, with terrible teeth.

They've been built up and treated, and are now ready to be rehomed.

I expressed a vague interest "as a last resort". I guess we all know what other kind of resort is likely to come before the last resort - none.

But what if Twiglet, who has risen to her role as the only cat in the household with, er, extreme laid-back-ness, does NOT take to incomers? She was the last one in all those years ago, and has never had to accept a cat that wasn't here before her.

And yet my soft heart melts...

The Unblinking Eye

Sorry, folks, for the absence. I've had this champion cold (or whatever) virus that won't go away. Great way to spend half term holiday - coughing, voiceless and asleep all day and night! Still hasn't gone and my concert and rehearsals need me.

Anyway, this episode really threw into perspective the average man's self-centredness.