We heard the faint mewling of a kitten somewhere in the hedgerow but did our best to ignore it for a day.
'Dammit' said I, 'I must go and see.'
A small black and white kitten came out of the woodpile and headed straight for us yowling squeakily. It allowed me to pick it up. A smelly wild male so no chance we would have it. Back on the ground, it went into the kitchen and helped itself to Topaze's food.
We retreated for strategic discussions - could it be the traditional French outdoor cat and Topaze the indoor cat? Vets bills were raised and its inevitable death on the road outside the house.
It got a meal and was put outside to find its way home.
In the early hours I hear an owl hoot and a kitten crying for help as it was carried away.
That was a solution but I did feel guilty.
However next morning the kitten reappeared. Topaze was livid. Spitting and hissing she got the kitten in a half-nelson and tried to bite its head off.
This could be another solution. Let Topaze drive it away. After all what could we do.
She adopted it.
No doubt she will publish another blog about it.
(Yes, I will - Topaze)
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