Last Thursday was Bastille Day here in
, and after all the rain earlier in the week the sun was kind enough to put in an appearance for us. With it being a holiday I couldn’t disturb our neighbours' peace by mowing the grass, so decided just to do some tidying-up around the garden and enjoy the welcome sunshine. France
We’d seen nothing of the kittens in the woodshed for days – hardly surprising, really, given how wet it’s been – so it was lovely to go round the corner of the house and see a small pair of ears sticking up out of a hollow in the woodpile.
As quietly as possible I dashed back into the house for the camera and spent the next few minutes gently edging as close as I could to the woodshed without alarming the owner of the ears. Finally I got close enough to see that there were in fact three pairs of ears, but sadly no sign of the fourth, which had belonged to a very pretty tortoiseshell and white kitten. It’s a hard world for feral kittens and we don’t think she’s made it this far.
They’ve grown a lot in the two weeks since we first spotted them, though they’re still being fed by their thin and frazzled-looking mother, who has now also started bringing them solid food to try. After they had been fed that evening, the kittens began to venture out and play in the grass near the woodshed. Unfortunately we were watching them through the window of the downstairs shower-room and it isn’t easy trying to take photos through the slats of a venetian blind, but I did my best.
If we were here permanently, I would be sorely tempted to try to tame these three little darlings, but as we’re not, I don’t feel I can interfere. All we can do is to leave them to be cared for and taught by their semi-wild mother and quietly admire them from a distance for their amazing beauty, grace and agility. Me, a cat-lover? Perish the thought. J