Kitten Update

Little Elvis is still with us you'll be overjoyed to hear. Elvis is as ridiculous as his father used to be before the latter became a fat slob, not to mince words, who now just lies slumped against the radiator waiting for the next lot of food to be served up to him - it's pathetic... (honestly, he used to be The Funny One, and you'd think he'd be even funnier now as being large naturally makes you funny, but no). Elvis particularly likes walnuts, kicking them around the floor like some demented Paul Gascoigne. We thought he'd be the clever, gifted type. We expose him to all the right influences: we've read him all the classics, Jane Austin, Danielle Steele; we play Mozart to him when he's falling asleep; we've even taken him to the ballet and The Horse of the Year Show, what a mistake that was - he's now jumping about over all the furniture trying to beat his "personal best". Nothing helps. He's more like the cheeky, muddy shirted football kid of those washing powder commercials. We're thrown away the brochures we got from Kitten Acedemy and St. Mogs and have inquired at the local college about courses in plumbing. Really, I don't know where he gets it from.



No such problem with Mitzi. She's gone. She was a lovely kitten, honestly, she had her own little personality, but well, she was just so quiet - we never knew what she was thinking. Mrs Dilo was talking with the lady in the cat food shop and happened to let it drop that we had a kitten that we'd really to give a better start in life to. A man then telephoned us. He came round. He was a young and very tall Moroccan medical student. We asked if he had a basket with him; he said he hadn't but grinned and said he could carry her home in his rucksack. We weren't worried, no, certainly not because he was Moroccan: legend has it that tabby cats (like Mitzi) have the distinctive M on their foreheads because of a blessing from the prophet Mohammed, whose name begins with "M", errr, in the Latin alphabet. The student bit worried me slightly, and scenes from that ghastly The Young Ones programme filled my fretful dreams that night; then there's the medical student bit..... but sometimes one simply just has to say "out of sight out of mind". I'm sure she's in a better place.