We're Getting A Cat

Mrs W wants a kitten.
All the little Wurzels want a kitten.
I don't want a kitten.

I mean, cats are a pointless waste of space. They don't do anything, just sit around licking themselves and staring at you like you're a piece of sh*t. You can't train them, or more to the point I reckon you can but they're just too stubborn and lazy to learn. And the kitten will get all the attention, there'll be none left for me.

Like I said, I don't want one.

So in true tradition of the modern man being master of his own home ................... I've given up arguing and we're getting a kitten.

A black one.

Called Salem.

Named after the cat in Sabrina the Teenage witch (had it been Sabrina or her Aunts coming to live with us instead I'd have no complaints.)


So they've gone out and bought all the stuff. Salem has a cat carry cage thing. And a plastic tray for him to use when nature calls ( at least he better use it if he knows what's good for him). He's got a rather comfortable looking quilted basket to sleep in. There's a strange looking post with rope wrapped round it and a ball dangling from the top, apparently it's for Salem to scratch - why he can't scratch the tree/fence/next doors dog I've no idea. And a double bowl, I guess one part for drinks and one part for food. And even a weird scoopy holey thing on a handle - either it's for cleaning up if he doesn't use the aforementioned tray or Salem will be joining the local lacrosse team, I'm not sure. In the cupboard I've spotted toy mice, bags of cat litter, and tins of cat food .

But we don't have a cat.

You see it's got to be a kitten. It's got to be completely black. It's got to be approximately 5 weeks old. It's got to be a boy. It's got to be reasonably close to home ("Dad where's Eastbourne?/Braintree?/Carlisle?"). And, the only input I've had so far, it's got to be cheap, or preferably free to a good home.

So every day Li'l Wurzel is searching the internet whilst Mrs W pores over the Free-Ads and the Echo classifieds. I know it's only a matter of time before they find one and my home life will never be the same again.

And no doubt, being a big softy at heart, I'll love it just as much as they do.

Edit: 24th November
We've got one. 8 weeks old, born on a farm in the New Forest, just back from collecting him............................................. and yes I admit it, he's cute. Two hours "home" he's wrecked a plant and wandering round like he owns the place. Is this the shape of things to come ?