Kitten update

 

Scally goes to see Keith.

No holds barred . . .

Smelly slippers are fun.

Up and down the stairs.

And generally being wicked. . .

I am now a climbing frame!

 

Please let us out of jail!  The little black and white one is a girl, the runt of the litter.  She has a Voice and has been called Pipsqueak.  (Full title Pippi Longstockings, as she has completely white legs).  The obviously half-Siamese one is currently called Scallywag (named by Keith).  I think it may be a boy, but lots of "bum-fluff" precludes a definitive gender ID.  Either way, they are SO much fun, but I seem to have become a climbing frame and they scoot up my legs - esp. Scally, and so I fear for my nice living room curtains!  I shall have to try and get the linings outwards when they're not pulled.  I think the Christmas tree will need to be very well secured this year or hung upside down from the ceiling!

I'm WICKED!!  Mum has passed on her bib and white paws.

Playing, not sleeping!  When they are out they are hurtling up and down, either the carpet or my legs, dangling from apron strings, and playfighting.  I had forgotten how kittens did the "I'm BIG" on tippytoes, with arched backs, flagpole tails and head on one side :)

You can just make out the slight tabby markings in the coat.  When the 3 obviously half-Siamese ones were tiny they were all cream with darker cream stripes.

I think you are going to soon tire of kitten photos!  I keep trying to get one of them fighting, but they move so quickly.

The 3 old boys are not impressed. Only Ghengis has met them when they are loose, and he clearly thinks, I'm too old for all this tomfoolery!  Alfie spat and hissed at them, and L. Whale ran away and won't eat in the same room now . . .  The crate is just a temporary affair, but I am very glad to Tam's partner for loaning it to me.

Enjoy your weekend.

Mostly "kittens"

Jarvis in the jungle . . .



I took quite a few photos of the kittens the other evening. Well, I call them kittens, but of course they are fully-grown now and about 14 or 15 months old. They are such lovely boys, and love to keep me company out in the garden. They're always prostrating themselves on the ground at my feet, to have their tummies tickled and to be made a fuss of. They are full of curiosity and fun, and love to play together and sometimes with mum (Miffy) too. She now allows me to stroke her and is finally no longer afraid of people, which is good, but it took 18 months, from the time we first saw her lurking at the back of the garden, and she used to hurtle off the moment the door opened.

Today I've done the usual housework, plus more gardening (tidying up and edging and weeding), and yet more painting - a bit I'd missed on a windowframe (from leaving the window open!), then a door frame and finally the first coat on a once-white door which I hadn't noticed needed doing as I only ever see the front of it and not the caramel once-white back!

Alfie

Jarvis

Alfie and Tippy

The Three Muskateers




There's a tiger inside every cat.

Below: My poor little pear tree - they are forever launching themselves into this one and swinging like Tarzan from the branches!



I ended my afternoon watching the menfolk at work at the paddock-edge, trying to remove some dead/dieing branches from a very elderly Willow which has succombed to disease. Fortunately they were using the bow-saw and not the chain saw or I'd have been having kittens! I looked up at Swallows swooping in a game of chase around the house, swooping and tipping a wing and jinking like a Whippet does when it's running flat out. They made me smile.

Kittenses

Grumpy mama Miffy.



My daughters have told me off because I am not blogging often enough about the kittens. They are a good 7 months old now - young cats rather than kittens of course - and gradually adapting to a dual life as part house cats (at night in this bitter weather) and mostly outside cats, but more than that, they are Foodies. They love to eat. It shows. Especially on Fatty (aka Jarvis) who is like a little barrel on legs (short ones at that!)

If I put food outside for Miffy (mama cat), they are there liked greased lightening, so I try and feed her now before and after they spend the night in the shower room. That way she gets a decent meal and she needs it more than they do, as she lives in the outbuildings of the farm. I hope she has found the barn, with its hay and straw, where Amber lives.

Mind you, they are good at Takeaways - as you will see from these photographs. Sometimes it's mum catching it, and they takeitaway. Or sometimes one of them has a lucky moment and the others try and grab the poor vole off the hunter.

I would like to say there was a happy outcome from these photos, but sadly for the vole, it got scoffed!

Anyway, our darling boys have wormed their way into our hearts and it is hard to imagine life without them. They are so easy going and MUCH easier than the rag and tag we have - Lucky/Lucy/Fluff are far too quick with their claws. I've never had cats who were like that until Lucky turned up and presented us with kittens, many years ago now. It's obviously something which is line bred through her.

Anyway, here are some pre-freeze photos of the boys hunting. Tippy was Doing Other Things Elsewhere by the look of things.


Now you've done it - it's gone under there . . .

Can you see it? Nope . . .

I'm sure I heard a rustle here in the leaves . . .

You take the front, I'll cover the back . . .

Have you got it?

I'm not interested in it now - it tastes yukky!

'Smine!! You can't have it!

Halloween kittens!

I call them kittens, but really they are young cats now, about 6 months old, and still the best of buddies, as you can see here where they are all snuggled up together in the porch on the defunct cushion from a garden chair. They are very playful. Tippy is totally tame and loves to be picked up and cuddled.

Jarvis, alias "Porky". He really is a stout rotund little cat with short legs and a broad beam! He loves to have his tummy tickled. He's not very keen at being picked up yet though.

This is Tippy - or Tippety-do-dah as I call him often. He is SO friendly and quite a character. He has a very loud voice and keeps telling us he isn't fed anything like ENOUGH food! I love the way his little white-tipped tail curls over at the top - he reminds me of the little lad Alfalfa in a childrens' film "Little Rascals" that my children always loved. It's his sticky-up tail with the tip falling over!



Alfie looking pensive.


Miffy is the mama feral cat. She will not tolerate people anywhere near her. We are going to have to borrow a trap to catch her for spaying as although I had hoped that leaving food in the big travelling box would tempt her in, she has other ideas. I thought I loved all cats, but she has other ideas about this and if she were to take herself off elsewhere, it would be a relief to me rather than an upset. She spits and hisses if you walk towards her, though you can actually get much closer (a couple of feet) compared with last Christmas when she arrived, and at the first sign of a person she would be in the farmyard and away. Sadly, she is blind in one eye.



Here are Tippy and Jarvis. Tippy has one eye which lights up slightly differently to the other and I think he may have had a scratch in it which has damaged it. You can't see any clouding or damage in daylight.


Ginger and white Alfie is growing in confidence, but still more timid than the other two, although he is happy to come into the house and even take Tippy's favourite seat inside the front door. He is quite happy to be stroked at length as long as there is food about! They all come inside the house now and have explored the kitchen and even upstairs, though this was when they were younger and more nervous and they soon panicked. Now they are starting to meet the older house cats, who think they are the lowest form of life and hiss and swear at them!

Tippy playing roly-poly in the hall . . .

And then resting on his favourite chair.

All three boys snuggled up together.



Little do they know that they are booked in to have their pockets picked next Tuesday . . . I will spend tomorrow morning cleaning out the lean-to utility room so that they can spend a few nights in there. They aren't allowed to eat from 6 p.m. the previous evening, so they need to be kept in so they don't go off hunting meeces in the paddock . . .

Kitten-wrangling

I have tried not to get attached to these feral kittens, but of course, once they have been allotted names, and shown their character, and finally allowed you to stroke them, it becomes rather obvious that they are becoming part of the family. They are all boys, even Busy Lizzie aka Jarvis, who finally rolled over enough to reveal the necessary "bits". The two piebalds - Jarvis, the chunkier one, and my favourite, Tippy, who is like a black and white Siamese - are happy to be stroked and fussed, but the smallest and most timid ginger and white boy, Alfie, is still reluctant to be touched. I think this is probably because he got his leg caught in the clematis vine and I had to touch him to rescue him, and every time I try to stroke him now, he expects something nasty to happen. He has to be encouraged to eat more, so I find it hard to use food as the bait to make him accept being touched. I have to wait until he is eating, and craftily stroke his brothers to manage the softest of touches on his back. Then he will leap away and regard me with scared eyes. Poor little chap.

Anyway, they have had the wind up their tails this morning and have been fighting outside like little demons!


Tippy.

Jarvis and Alfie.


!

Alfie.

The start of another fight.


Tippy about to pounce.

Jarvis.