Aww, cuties!
Ohh I remember it well! The shuffling about flatfooted just in case some bright spark runs in front of you, the obsessional need to check when reversing, just in case some bright spark etc...The slow tread while weighted down with a kitten or two hanging happily on the jeans...human cat gym. Yeah I soon learned about the bog seat in my Siamese days...
Emily's kittens were the last lot I had and I had to laugh when the CP asked me, 'does the mother let you touch them?' Em dumped them on me and the dog every evening and got some 'Em' time while the kitties rampaged and gathered under poor Lizzie's hairy belly in the hope of milk (I have a pic of her looking very surprised) swarmed over me and generally caused havoc, bless them. I have another pic of Emily, very thin and pale from her life on the street and the birth of 5 kittens as ginger as herself, being kissed by the smallest kitten, Michael, who I think would have died if she hadn't brought them across to me; he was the runt and very frail, while in the background an upturned tail and cheeky bottom is all you can see of his sister, Red-Haired Mary, as she rummages in a bookcase behind...it just happened to be the crime section
Happy days - exhausting, but very rewarding - enjoy!
