We got two rescue kittens on Christmas Eve. Brothers, they were abandoned, left to fend for themselves in a cardboard box. We love them, they are our new babies. The chickens are less in love. Tiger-like, low to the ground, Benny and Tabby hunt together. They stalk and chase and upset chickens scatter. I'm assured they couldn't bring one down so I leave the hunters to their delusion.
We thought we'd lost both of them yesterday. A friend came to visit with a little gun dog. Well trained, he didn't bark or attack, he just give the kittens a nasty look. Hours later, using strong torches, we found them in the attic barn. Fluffy and sad.
When the children go to sleep, husband and I watch the evening show. Up the curtains, round the sofa, tiny and ferocious, our kittens charge at one another intent on dangerous play then flop to sleep on us. I'm pleased we found them, our house is nicer than a cardboard box.
No comments:
Post a Comment