The Kitty Who Cried Wolverine

The kitties are playing Henny Penny.

In their new all-grown-up (as if...) phase, they get to go outside for a couple of hours each day. They disappear out of sight immediately, and I turn from the window and tell myself that there is no indigenous population of wolverines in West Cork, that animals should go outside, that a life lived in fear is a life half-lived...

Throughout their Big Wide World session, they thunder in to the house, mewing and yawling - as though they're saying 'The sky is falling' or 'Dubh's been run over!' or 'Max has just been gored - come quick!!!'

It's all very Skippy: 'What's that? Timmy's stuck down the well? Broken femur, you reckon?' The first few times I went out to check on the absent kitty - expecting to find Cujo snarling in the back garden. Or, you know, a wolverine. But no...

So here I sit, working away. They take turns racing in, all 'the sky is falling', snuggle up earnestly for two seconds, like they're just making sure that House Life is as they left it, then off they go, completely happy.

Sigh. Little darlings :-)