Ratty visited the Vet on Saturday afternoon and was pronounced healthy. The Vet was amazed at Ratty's progress. We've made an appointment for two weeks' time for his little op. He was the best behaved cat getting into the carrier, travelling and being a patient at the Vet of any cat we've ever taken before.
I can hear the chorus of 'I told you so' streaming through the ether and can feel all those heads shaking. I don't want four cats. The politics of three cats is bad enough. And if Ratty moves in (as he has done) how do I square my conscience about his little sister 'Little Guy', Pink Floyd and all the rest?
Ratty has fallen in love it seems. Once you take a chap into your bedroom, he thinks he should spend all his time there, with you, exclusively. If I move from my chair he wakes up and maows, and if I don't come straight back, he wanders around the house looking for me. The place he has chosen to roost is - surprise, surprise - exactly where he spent his days in the HDU.
And Wolfe, who is a jealous queen, tries to climb onto my lap to show Ratty that I love her the best, while poor Macc and Ming slink around the walls glaring at me and then arrange secret meetings with me upstairs under the covers.
My advice to the world: never, ever fool around, it is simply not worth it.
x
