"No," I stubbornly said. "Besides, I'm still not convinced it's a cat."
A mate dropped by today and raised his eyebrows when we showed him our 'puppy', declaring, "You know that's a cat right?" Gulp. No. We did not.
Okay, so it turns out that we are in possession of a newborn kitty-cat - not puppy as we formerly thought.
(Mind you, the jury is still technically out on that one for me, given the gargantuan size of its 'paws'...but I digress.)
This morning I was greeted by an email from my sister saying, "Are you sure it's not a rodent you've rescued and are sharing your bed with?" She was doubtful given the fact that we'd had to Google in order to suss out exactly which gene pool our new pet hailed from.
In fact the husband confessed last night to also waking up and double checking that we hadn't just begun nursing a newborn rat (you should see its tail).
Anyway, I'm kind of glad it's a kitten because there is no way I could give up a puppy. I am after all, a dog person. And the husband is a cat person. Which might explain why he was up several times throughout the night, feeding the little thing through a straw and stroking it to sleep, while I, with the best intentions in the world, could do little more than gaze on through sleep deprived eyes, my only task being official 'light switcher-on person'.
Now it all makes sense. Inherently I must have known that it was of the feline variety, and vice versa the husband.
But don't get me wrong. I have spent the entire morning with this little ball of mewling fluff wrapped in my all saints cardigan, stroking its tiny head and rocking it to sleep.
Nonetheless, the case remains that as a 'dog person', I am not willing to take on any more dependents at present - especially the aloof, non-licking, non-wagging-of-the-tail variety.
(But it's still darn cute. Check it out this morning as the husband gave our 'puppy' a bath in our pasta pot. Priceless.)
Evil mama.....my poor godson! x
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