Okay, so I wrote most of my inaugural post but then one of my claws got caught on the keyboard and I accidentally deleted it all so I've had to start all over again. I'll get the hang of this blogging thing soon, but it does keep interfering with my nap schedule!
I was going to tell you about how Salty and I ended up where we are now, living in the lap of (moderate) luxury, here in Kittenshire....
We started out life living in the alleyway between two houses with our Mum and litter-sister. Nice-neighbour didn't have room to take us in, so we were taken in by Cats' Protection, who found us a lovely foster home with Mummy-B where we stayed for nearly a year. By then our Mum had been released back into the wild - CP made sure she was spayed and vaccinated first of course, to help keep the feral community healthy - and our sister was rehomed. We were slated to be stable cats, but Mummy-B cared about us too much to see us put to hard work and stomped on by horses like that.
And that's when Mummy-Q and Mummy-S came along. They'd recently lost their fur-baby (as Mummy-S likes to call us! The impertinence!), and Mummy-B invited them over to see us all, to help cheer them up. Well, we were still two little scaredy-cats back then, but even in spite of that, they both fell in love with us straight away. They brought the cat carriers round a week or so later, caught us up and took us home.
Now, I don't know about what strange things you humans are like, but I've got to say, being ripped from everything you've ever known so young, separated from your family, operated on, shoved in cold boxes and cages, and taken to a completely new place and expected to just settle right in, it's a lot to ask of two poor, scared kittens. I'm glad I had Salty here with me though; we might fight tooth and claw sometimes, but he's alright really. And he helps me clean the fur right on the top of my head, which I can't do on my own.
Anyway: I'm getting distracted... I'm sure I heard a box of treats being rattled, but when I went into Mums' bedroom, it was just Salty-boy knocking things off the chest-of-drawers. It's got to be time for food again. I'd better go and call Mummy-S, she'll know what's what.
We started out life living in the alleyway between two houses with our Mum and litter-sister. Nice-neighbour didn't have room to take us in, so we were taken in by Cats' Protection, who found us a lovely foster home with Mummy-B where we stayed for nearly a year. By then our Mum had been released back into the wild - CP made sure she was spayed and vaccinated first of course, to help keep the feral community healthy - and our sister was rehomed. We were slated to be stable cats, but Mummy-B cared about us too much to see us put to hard work and stomped on by horses like that.
And that's when Mummy-Q and Mummy-S came along. They'd recently lost their fur-baby (as Mummy-S likes to call us! The impertinence!), and Mummy-B invited them over to see us all, to help cheer them up. Well, we were still two little scaredy-cats back then, but even in spite of that, they both fell in love with us straight away. They brought the cat carriers round a week or so later, caught us up and took us home.
Now, I don't know about what strange things you humans are like, but I've got to say, being ripped from everything you've ever known so young, separated from your family, operated on, shoved in cold boxes and cages, and taken to a completely new place and expected to just settle right in, it's a lot to ask of two poor, scared kittens. I'm glad I had Salty here with me though; we might fight tooth and claw sometimes, but he's alright really. And he helps me clean the fur right on the top of my head, which I can't do on my own.
Anyway: I'm getting distracted... I'm sure I heard a box of treats being rattled, but when I went into Mums' bedroom, it was just Salty-boy knocking things off the chest-of-drawers. It's got to be time for food again. I'd better go and call Mummy-S, she'll know what's what.
