On the peculiarities of the feline infant.

I'm currently housesitting for my sister and her husband, and am consequently in charge of two kittens and two fish.
The fish really aren't a problem, as long as I remember to feed them every two days and turn the filter on occasionally, they really aren't much of a bother. Its not like they can set the burglar alarm off, or run across the keyboard while one is trying to write a blog. No.
Strawberry is sitting on the table next to my computer, intently watching my fingers as they type, and threatening to attack them at any moment. She also continues to attempt to walk across the keyboard, despite that plan being thwarted EVERY SINGLE TIME. Perhaps shes not too bright. But shit, shes really cute. Strawberry is the more people-orientated of the two, she follows me around the house and (just walked behind the computer instead of attempting to walk across it! We might be learning! wait, no, just trying from another angle) likes to cuddle up and sit on my knee when I'm watching telly or reading.
Hang on, shes just managed to make the task bar at the top of the screen disappear! Fuck!
Neow is more of a loner, she doesn't really give a shit what I'm up to, as long as I feed her, but occasionally she'll sneak up for a wee cuddle, or to bite my ear. The two of them together though, are quite a team. They will pound the crap out of each other for hours on end, and then curl up together and have a sleep with their legs all intertwined. Its pretty cute.
What is not at all cute is the amounts of distress the little fuckers put me through yesterday. Whenever I leave the house, they have to be shut in the bathroom or they'll trigger the alarm. I spent 45 minutes yesterday looking for the little shit-monsters, and after searching the property (fairly substantial, especially in the pissing rain when I had just spent half an hour straightening my hair which subsequently went BOOF) asking the neighbours whether they'd seen the kittens, calling work to say I'd be late cos I'd managed to lose two kittens inside a closed house, searching the house three times (again, fairly substantial task), imagining how I would explain to Samantha that Aunty Claire had lost her kitten after two days; I eventually called my Dad, because thats what I do when I don't know what to do. He said to just go to work and to call me when I got home cos the alarm wouldn't have been on so that if there was a serial killer inside the house then at least I would be on the phone to Dad at the time of my death. Well, something like that.
So I'm on the phone, fairly distressed, talking to Dad, when I hear the familiar jingle of kitten collar bells. Strawberry is sitting at the bottom of the stairs, like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. Little fucker.
Turns out they were hiding inside the sofa. INSIDE the fucking sofa. Neow emerged a couple of minutes later, and I said to Dad "excuse me I have to go now and wring some kitten necks". He suggested I stuff them down the toilet and nobody would be the wiser.
But now they're all cute and cuddly again, so we'll see how long that lasts.

Am not going to tempt fate by blogging about boys. You'll just have to wait and see. As will I.
Actually I think that my biggest fault, aside from being self-centred and a bit mad, is impatience. This may prove to be a thing.

I believe this may be my first blog for 2005.
This is also a thing, because (sob) NEXT YEAR I'M THIRTY!!!!!!!

*shot of Claire, on the floor in the corner, hugging knees and rocking, singing quietly to herself "All I want is a room somewhere, far away from the cold night air..." *

fade out