Sybil the Sybarite
Overnight, the kits appear to have reached some sort of milestone. We had a few musician friends round last night, but at the first sound of an accordion Sybil and Polly fled upstairs; unsurprising, as Henry in particular took ages to get used to the sound of Morris tunes played on boxes. Syb did venture down later, though, and charmed her audience.
This morning, I could hear them galumphing around from downstairs. “Ah hah!”, I thought. “The hob nailed boots have arrived”. (These are issued to all kittens at some point, for additional noise making when rushing about). They are now into running at full pelt, climbing anything in sight, removing the laundry from the drying rack, etc.
And to add insult to injury for the Incumbents, this morning the kits followed me downstairs, and helped themselves to the Big Cats’ breakfast. Two bowls of Whiskas, one kitten eating from each, and three somewhat baffled Huge Boys at the other end of the kitchen, wondering just what had happened. I did the kits a bowl of kitten fud, and bore them away upstairs.
In other, slightly worrying, news, No sign of Lilith this morning, and the weather is foul here. No doubt she’s safe and warm somewhere, but it doesn’t stop me panicking slightly …