So we’d kind of settled into a pattern of the little boys coming downstairs to play every evening, and being allowed out in the garden on weekends. The big boys were a bit fed up of the hero worship and constant invitations to join in what they thought of as stupid games, but hey, they have little else to worry about. Then Sunday morning TC says someone is interested in adopting them, a couple come to see them Sunday afternoon and by Monday evening we’re waving bye bye.
The lads have got a lovely quiet new home – and a couple of perfect new slaves. I’m confident that it’s going to be “second time lucky” with rehoming them. They jumped out of their carrier and ran under the (unlit) stove, thereby finding the ideal spot where they could observe but feel safe. Thankfully they have tolerant, patient new humans who seem to be putting up with the fact that every time they come out to explore they trample soot and muck all over the kitchen floor.
Exactly 24 hours after dropping the lads off I picked up Duke – my 36th house guest. He’s an utterly adorable tabby hunk, who has had a tough time recently. He was a stray, found by a busy main road, rehomed for a while but back in rescue through family issues which were no fault of his own. Miserable and car sick on the way here, but trying to make the best of it, he spotted his bed the moment he got out of his carrier, jumped in, curled up and went straight to sleep. He’s a purry tabby snuggle lump who loves to play and cuddle but doesn’t like other cats very much. He’s going to make someone who just wants a single pet very very happy.
accidental fosterer 