[link to the video, in case you can’t see it embedded]

A friend of ours posted on Facebook yesterday that she was trying to organise the rehoming of a rescue Siamese cat, aged about five, whose owner was no longer able to keep her. And before I could even start working on Pete to suggest that we took her, my daughter Clare fell upon the news with glee. She lost her Siamese boy last year (he had been our Siamese boy first, but went to live with her a few years ago, along with Eskarina, the Balinese wah-bag).

After a bit of to-ing and fro-ing, we went to meet the cat last night. And brought her back with us, ready for onward conveyance to Norfolk tomorrow. She is now ensconced in our bedroom in a large dog crate, with soft bed, litter tray and food. She spent last night hissing and spitting at any of the Tribe she could see – a little unfair, as they weren’t remotely bothered by her, and clearly were a bit puzzled by all the fuss. She then decided to try and dig her way out of the crate, so everything is covered in cat litter. I’m currently calling her “Jackson”, as Clare said that she is clearly the Jackson Pollock of cats.

She’s a beautiful, feisty little thing, and I’m sure she’ll settle down well with Poppy the rescue cat. Esk’s reaction is likely to be noisy, and I’m quite glad I’ll be 150 miles away for most of it 🙂 And having driven Siamese cats on long journeys before, I can’t say I’m looking forward to tomorrow, but she will have a lovely life down there.

Or, of course, we could keep her …

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