Babies

Gather round, everyone, and I shall tell you a tale of how two quite separate tragedies led to two joyous bundles falling in our laps. Feel free to toast your marshmallows on that bonfire over there.

Our story starts on July 19th. It's a day that my beloved Will and I have been preparing for all week, and discussing excitedly as though it were Christmas just around the corner. Everything has been organised, my room's been tidied in honour of the day, and all that's left to do is make the collection trip. I announce to Facebook: "It's kitten day!"

A friend of Will's has a litter of kittens, one of whom has been picked out by my honey weeks since. She's a little black and white girl named Kirjava, after his namesake's daemon in the His Dark Materials books. I've agreed enthusiastically to raising her in my flat as a co-owner, as I've never had a cat to call my own before. Yes, at 24, this will be My First Pet. We're the two happiest cat lovers in Salford this morning.

So we walk up to collect her, knock on this supposed friend's door, and... nothing. No answer, despite the whole thing having been organised and confirmed days in advance. We knock, then we hammer. There are people inside; we can hear voices whispering "Don't answer it, ignore it." We can see Kirjava sitting right by the door, looking straight at us, but we can't get to her.

See, what this Jeremy Kyle wannabe doesn't realise that causing this level of bullshit has immense consequences. Will is so distraught that he can't be in the same room as the litter tray and food bowls that we've laid out so carefully. Seeing my beloved in this state causes a reaction that happens increasingly rarely these days: Little Miss Sunshine Sees Red.

Anyhow, there's nothing we can do. Kirjava is lost to us, and we can only consider other options, such as adopting from the shelter.

A week passes, and Will hears that a friend of his has split up with his girlfriend. It's a sad time for them, and sadder still that their numerous cats have to be rehomed because they can't keep them anymore. But it brings us a good chance to bring some comfort to two bad situations: Will and I can have a kitten, and our friends will be happy that whoever we take home will be drenched in affection and taken care of more than any other cat has been.

So who did we pick?



On the left is Charley, our cheeky little tabby boy. On the right is his slightly older sister, the tortoiseshell princess Purrdy. They're just over four months old, and I'm here to tell you, folks, that I've never met two more adorable creatures in my life. They've already attacked one of their dangly toys to death, and it's hilarious to watch them chase each other around my room. They've made their bed in the little shelf space in my bedside table, and at bedtime all you can hear when you're trying to sleep is two sets of purring in your ear.

We're such happy kitten-parents!



Please be warned, dear reader, that I will now be prone to frequent random posts about any and all acts of cuteness perpetrated by our fuzzy babies. Squee! They're so adorable!