We have a new cat called Merlin. He was adopted from a friend who was moving house, although I'm starting to wonder if that was just the best excuse she could think of. We were doing just fine with Georgie, our black and white cat-rescue, nose-in-the-air little lady, but I'm a sucker for a sob story, so said those fateful words, 'Oh, go on, then...' So far, Merlin has fallen in the washing basket, eaten my son's shoe laces and attacked Georgie at every opportunity. He's the greediest cat we've had, and he's only been here for a week. He climbed in the bin after old chips, hoovered under the chairs for crumbs (saves me a job, though...) and discovered a liking for croutons. When I came home from work today, the kitchen drawers were all open, including the one where we stash the take-away menus. I have a suspicion that, had he found my credit card, he'd have been halfway through a Dominoes pizza.
I'm just hoping that Merlin and Georgie learn to get on together. We're forced to keep them apart at the moment as they scream at each other and retreat only when they have mouthfuls of the opposition's fur. A bad mistake was made two nights into the settling-in process, when we let them share space. Not a wink of sleep was had, and I was left washing cat pee off the wall at four in the morning. It's amazing how much urine a small cat contains. Or doesn't contain, after it's all been frightened out of him.
I'm hoping that peace will reign by the time I next write. Sorry it's been a while, by the way. Two OU assignments and a throat-slittingly enjoyable Brownie camp got in the way. More on that later...
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