Post Script to a Bridge Too Far

Post Script: My heart wants to keep little Pebbles because he is cute, affectionate and just lovely and I've come to love him in just 10 days. However, my head tells me that should Banjo still not accept him in the next few weeks, perhaps a month at the longest, then I shall have to find him another loving home to go to. This would break my heart - again! But, Banjo has been my loyal and constant companion through such awful times that she doesn't deserve this.

There are only two people I would entrust with Banjo should anything happen to me, but I know that Pebble would probably fit in anywhere warm and loving with kind people who would feed and play with him. Banjo comes first. So we'll see what the next few weeks bring...

A Bridge Too Far

I've done everything the Feline Advisory Bureau have suggested; rubbing the scent of one cat onto another and back again; rubbing scent into the bowls of my existing cat's food dishes, moving covers and cloths around that either cat has slept on; playing with both through the chicken wire partition... I'm worn out through play. Banjo still hisses and spits when Pebble makes the mistake of staring her in the eye. I wonder if they'll ever tolerate each other.

Whenever I've started a new job, the same sort of thing happened but without the hissing and spitting. We all skirted around each other, sizing each other up and the roles we had, who was more important in the work hierarchy, who was friendly, who was submissive. There have been some whom have never been to my liking, but for professional reasons I have had to tolerate them. Often I escaped into the ladies loo and hissed and spitted until my temper subsided, then came out smiling. After one particular incident, I was expected to shake hands and be friends with someone who'd 'done the dirty' on me; it was a bridge too far... I shook hands but could not be friends with this person, and I made that clear. So we skirted round each other for the rest of the years we were in the job, just managing to tolerate one another's existence. This is one of the reasons I want to have my own business rather than work for an organisation again. I'm not very good at working for those with no aptitude, intelligence or good leadership qualities; it's a fault of mine more than theirs.

So, Banjo, I can empathise with you and your feelings at this intruder into your idyllic existence; and understand how you are sizing up Pebble and where you will both eventually fit into the hierarchy of the house. I just hope that it will not be a bridge too far for you.

Male or Female

I thought so! Pebble is definitely Male; he is scared of almost anything and runs to hide in the most unobtainable places; he is also soft and very affectionate, not at all aggressive.

I suspected he was Male and the Vet confirmed it today; giving him his first jab and removed a nasty tick that I hadn't the nerve or expertise to attempt. I thought I was losing all sense of sexual observation when the Vet came to my rescue and assured me that it was very difficult to tell the sex of young cats and remarked that he was too pretty to be male ; phew! I was beginning to think I may as well give up on recognising any suitable male that may present himself to me in the future. He'd have to be well-groomed, have a cold nose, clean and like Pebble be very soft and affectionate; Oh, and a fewTiger-like qualities would be welcome too. Not that I'd recognise a chat-up line if it hit me in the face, as happened when shopping with one of my daughters; a man was asking my advice on hand creams in a very expensive French shop, so I duly gave him advice. He didn't seem to be listening to what I was saying, so I repeated my comments then walked away. My daughter told me how he'd been watching me and it was a chat-up line. I wondered why she'd yanked my granddaughter out of the way. Just as well... I wouldn't know what to do - it's been so long... and no, I can't ride a bike! It's not easy.

It's also not very easy finding Sainsbury's own kitten food pouches; especially when they're on an aisle nowhere near other cat food. I managed to grab the very last bag of cat litter; perhaps there's been a run on re-homing kittens in this area;(just thought - Fireworks, hence the need for more cat litter)?

I must go to the Gym... but kittens need a lot of attention... No, She, sorry, HE must do without me for an hour or two; must get all this into perspective.

A Sunday found

A far better name would've been 'Tiger', but I'd already used the name for a kitten 30 years' ago, and a pebble isn't what this little kitten resembles apart from the grey and amber flecks. Pebble is the one on the right of this photo!

She has well and truly bonded with me now after just one week from being in the cold outdoors with her feral mother and siblings. She has stopped gorging her food and her litter tray breathes a sigh of relief too. Now that she trusts me, I am able to have a look at her private bits, however, I'm not totally convinced Pebble is a 'She'; maybe Pebble is a 'not very well-endowed' male; it's hard to tell, or I'm just so out of practice!

She has been wormed and de-flea-ed, so too has Banjo who is looking indignant at having to go through the same procedure when if fact she was absolutely fine! Banjo and Pebble are just not bonding. Hissy fits and growls fill the air when they come nose to nose either side of the chicken-wired, make-shift temporary door between them.

Today has passed so quickly, but then, I've spent most of it lying on the floor, playing with various toy mice, marbles and bits of string; laughing and cooing and absorbing the unconditional love and affection that this little mite is giving me. I have had so many 'lost' Sundays this past two years, it's so good to enjoy what is usually for me, the worst and most lonely day of the week.