Our friends don't breed British Blues any more, but one of their mothers still does, and we were round there about 6 weeks ago. Her cat had just had a litter, and they brought out one of the kittens. It was quite sweet. My wife badgered me to get one but I was very firm .
So fast forward to Thursday last week. Got a call from my wife- "they sold one to a little old lady but she then had a fall and can't look after her. They need her homed before they go away at the end of the week. £150. Please?"
So now I've rubbishrubbishrubbishrubbishrubbished £150 I don't have on a third cat I don't need. I cannot for the life of me think what possessed me to do that.
Bah Humbug. Anyway, her name is Emma.
My other two cats have been very put out by her. The eldest, who is just about the most placid, laid back and friendly cat I've ever met, and who didn't bat an eyelid when our other cat arrived, has been doing a bit of hissing and the odd swipe. The younger one has had the raging hump since she arrived, for the first two days she even hid from us, but she's coming round now and has just marched into my room demanding a stroke. Just got to hope that the kitten grows up into a raving beauty like the eldest:
And not a special needs bigears like the middle one, who a second ago started play fighting my hand, then started wailing when her claws got stuck in my watch: