Our reward for feeding Mehitabel, the stray who appeared this spring, is a litter of kittens. They're soft and silly and very cute - what are the odds of that? One, at the tender age of four weeks, is a tiny lion stalking his patch of savannah - our woodshed. His opposite is a solemn, yet savage, panther, as quietly deadly as the wee lion is brashly lethal. When they're all asleep, I know there are three others, but awake they are like spilled mercury - scattering and regrouping in unpredictable, sort of sinister ways.
I'm looking forward to long winter evenings with a good book and a warm little furball or two in my lap.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment