A week or so ago the freeloader brought a kitten home with him. Geeze even I'm starting to use the word 'home' in conjunction with the freeloader. He and Morgan colluded to bring the kitten into the house without our knowledge.
Yeah right; so we're going to cast a kitten out when the freeloader is still abusing our hospitality? I know which I'd choose.
It's difficult to conceal a kitten; the little buggers are full of curiousity and you need vigilance far beyond Morgans powers to prevent em escaping into the rest of the house.
Morgan of course claimed proprietorship of the new kitten. Morgan has much to learn; you never own a cat.
Morgan is champing at the bit to move out into her own apartment and you'd better believe I'm all for that. The minor detail of who is going to pay the rent hasn't occurred to her yet. We, Morgan, Mum, Andrew and I, had a discussion a couple of months ago where we made it clear that the cats that live with us live with us. Morgan isn't going to be taking any of our cats with her; they know each other and they are happy here.
A week later and the newest member of our cat population has been accepted by Ginger (he's a remarkably placid cat), grudgingly accepted by Kitten (my cat) and as for Roo? She runs whenever the little one appears! What a wuss!
Last night we dined on roast beef sangers (sandwiches). A pound or so of very thinly sliced roast beef purchased at the local deli and some bread rolls. Add a little dijon mustard, some salt and freshly ground black pepper and you're talking a dish fit for a king! My wife insists on 'french dip' to accompany. Unfortunately, due to cultural differences, her idea of french dip and mine are not the same. What she means is 'a jus'; what I mean is a dip made of cream cheese, onions and garlic. I suspect that neither of us is thinking of anything even remotely french, especially when my wife's 'french dip' was made from a stock cube!
But if I've been married thrice and my wife four times and we're still happily married that means we've learned to let each other do the dietary things that feel right. Sonya can make 'french dip' as she wants and if I don't dip my roll in it that's ok with her!
Came midnight or thereabouts and I was feeling a trifle peckish. With a little left over roast beef in the fridge and a spare roll or two it was the work of a moment to make myself an encore meal.
The new kitten rushed up wanting to know what was happening. As one does I took a couple of pieces of roast beef out of the roll and fed em to her. 'Mmmmm' was her reaction; 'I like that'. Two mouthfuls of the roll left and an importunate kitten! Quite the moral dilemma. I compromised; the new kitten got two more mouthfuls of roast beef and I had two mouthfuls of roll with a little beef flavouring.
Last mouthful gone on both sides it was now time to convince new kitten that all good things come to an end. She wasn't convinced and the fact that my fingertips smelled of roast beef didn't help. She licked em at first but, lacking experience of the world, her enthusiasm got the better of her. Good thing I've had the tutelage of dozens of kittens in my time; her first attempt to bite my fingertips off was her last! :-)
If and when Morgan ever moves out I suspect that new kitten will be so firmly a part of our cat family that it would be cruel to allow her to accompany Morgan. A fight with Morgan will be nothing new!