Today I will not be mentioning the book I recently (self-published).
Well, from now on, anyway.
No, today I want to focus on a different arrival. One that coincided nicely with the aforementioned event, and was, in fact, somewhat caused by it.
Today I’d like to talk about Mabel.
Scratch That
For those that missed the post detailing the arrival of the tuxedo kitten in question, you can find that adventure here. Suffice it to say that as far from the end of the, um, experience.
Having a kitten is wonderful, in theory. It means an almost endless supply of cuteness, the odd snuggle as Mabel runs out of stream mid-play and collapses on a knee in a position that simply cannot be comfortable.
It also means trouble.
Yes, there have been scratches and yes, there have been nibbles (especially of my hands for some reason) but that was only to be expected. Kittens, very much like toddlers, seem to be fitted with a two-speed gear box. It’s either one hundred miles an hour or asleep, with no braking distance or cooling off period in the middle.
But that’s not the worst of it.
A Capital T
No, it’s not the needle-like teeth or the paper-cut claws, it’s not even the noise she made in the car when we took her for her inoculations, something that put me in mind of faulty police siren. What has caused more trouble than anything else is just how brave the tiny little ball of fur has proven to be.
We have two other, adult cats, both of them over ten, as well as one slightly arthritic Springador who is also of advanced years.
And does Mabel care that Sunny, Giles and Bonnie were here first? Does she care that they are, each of them, far, far bigger than her?
No, not so much.
In fact, Mabel seems to think she is the boss of the brood. She plays with Giles and practically terrorises poor Bonnie, she of the waggy tail that makes for a far-too-tempting target. Only Sunny, our oldest cat, seems to escape, and that’s mainly because she utilises the hiss-and-leave tactic for kitten management, something I might just try myself next time she’s hanging off my arm.
One tool I will not be turning to is my wheelchair, something with which Mabel’s fabled bravery has proved something of a liability.
Run Down
One of my and my super-spouse, Tina’s newest hobbies is playing ‘where’s Mabel’ a game akin to ‘Where’s Wally’ but with less stripes and more newly discovered dangers. Silence is never a good thing, and any even slightly prolonged hushes will prompt one of us to utter those fateful words, and even when we have eyes on the tiny terror, the opportunity for disaster is still far too close, especially when she makes a dart that takes her directly into the path of a my already turning wheels.
So far, I have only run over her a bit, although from the noise she made you might have thought it was quite a bit more. There was no blood though, no broken bones, no blame, and no claim. Yes she hid under our bed for a little while, but less than half-an-hour later she was back to playing silly buggers and being a bitey madam.
And that’s both times.
Of course experience is the best teacher, and hopefully both I and Mabel will grow from these brief but heart-skipping encounters before there’s a cat-astrophe (sorry).
Until next time!
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Hey, there! If you enjoyed reading any of the above, why not take a look at some of my published work? Below you’ll find links to a number of short stories I’m lucky enough to have included in anthologies. I’d love to know what you think. My debut novel, The Heart That Died, is available now as both paperback, E-book, and on Kindle Unlimited, so I’m adding the link to that, too.
Oh, and if you like what you look-see, a nice, positive review would also be most welcome.
The Heart That Died
New Tales Of Old
Death Ship
Pestilence: Drabbles 1
Reaperman: Drabbles 3
The Musketeers Vs Cthulhu
Eldritch Investigations
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