… the kitten or the egg?
EGGWATCH: Nil. Nothing. Nought. A big fat zero. The only thing my girls are laying in the nest boxes at the moment are juicy poos.
Aphrodite and Hera both have nice red faces and crops, which is a sign that they’re teetering on the brink of point of lay, but yet all the pellets, corn and porridge continue to go in one end with no eggs coming out the other end. Patience is a virtue, or so I’m told.
KITTENWATCH: Drama and misadventure on Kittenwatch this week. Charlie, Stevie and Nessa are complete pussies and continue to be terrorised by the stinky spraying stray. On successive days, Charlie flew through the cat flap and bolted upstairs like a streak of black and white lightning (given the right incentive he can move surprisingly fast for a 6.5kg cat), Nessa was found cowering behind the hoover in the hallway (who can blame her when she ended up with an infected cat bite on her leg) and, after following the trail of wailing, Stevie was finally located up a tree. The second tree drama necessitated a torchlight rescue as he’d fled with such momentum that he found himself 25 foot up a tree with no branches below 15 foot. Stevie couldn’t wait for Dave to arrive with the ladder and before I knew what was happening a ball of black fur was plummeting towards me. Needless to say he fell straight between my outstretched hands. Thankfully he missed the concrete base of the water tank, and while I stood there in shock he just dusted himself off and began complaining vociferously, presumably about my lack of catching skills. And then I had him castrated. He got off lightly compared with Nessa, who came round from her spaying op with sedative induced hallucinations that were clearly bewildering – judging by the head waggling I’d say she was watching a couple of pixies playing a high speed game of tennis on the arm of the sofa.