Wednesday, 16 July 2014


Arya is one of several cats which have arrived in my house in the last couple of weeks. Exactly why she's a problem we'll look at a little later but first let's examine the ones which aren't a problem, or pose different ones.

The Fluffys you already know about if you've read the last couple of posts and if you haven't, please do. When they've had their second flu jab they'll be going, space permitting, to our re-homing centre at Ferry Farm Kennels. Much as I love them, there's no way they're staying here.

Neither is two year old Brienne. All she does is eat and sleep or, when I go and see her, come to me to be petted then have a bite to eat (literally: one bite) then come back to me then have another bite and come back to me and... You can see where this is going, can't you. Ideally I'd like someone to foster her so I could get a better idea of what she's really like because other than liking me and disliking cats I have no ideal at all. Failing that it's off to Ferry Farm.

Then there's Caitlyn who has moved from my horror DVD cupboard to a spare graphic novel shelf but has now taken up home behind my fridge from which she appears in order to eat and be stroked by me. She'll be off to Ferry Farm soon.

There's also Jeff the mother of four kittens homed recently. The student I got her from wanted ultimately to take her but as I haven't heard from the young woman in over a month she'll go on the list for moving to Ferry Farm after her jabs and spaying.

Finally we come to Arya.
Arya is one who had to have the pin removed from her leg. She's also got a large scab on her back near her shoulder blades which she keeps picking at but it doesn't heal. I'll see what the vet has to say about that when I take her to have her stitches out tomorrow.

None of this is the problem really. The problem is that after only two weeks she gives the impression of having been here for ages. She's friendly and she's affectionate but then they are all. She also mixes with and plays with the Famous Five. (That's the name I've given to my permanent feline residents and I've been calling them that for simply, well, seconds really ever since I typed it 26 words ago.) Arya just feels part of the household.

So, I've got three choices:
Make it The Secret Six.
Send her to Ferry Farm after the second jab.
Keep her here but with her included on the list of cats available with fosterers.
Actually, I've already made the choice but I'm not going to tell you what it is and the only way you can find out is to ask me if you can adopt her.
Don't go too far away as I'll be putting up another post shortly. In it I'll demonstrate, as if that was necessary, how stupid I am.

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