We're just wild about Harry ...

At first glance, one might be excused for not understanding the significance of this photo. Let me explain ...

My dear cousin, the Swizzle-Stick, has recently made some very big changes in her life. One of these has involved selling her house to move to a stylish waterside apartment. With less room. And no pets.

Thus a quandary. What to do with her ginger cat, Harry?

A plaintive appeal came our way so my Betrothed and I felt we had no choice but to adopt-a-cat and take Harry home to our little menagerie.

So last night we went over to the Swizzle-Stick's soon to be ex-home for dinner, assistance with her garage sale preparations ... and the cat carrier.

My Betrothed was brutally efficient with the labelling of garage sale items leaving the Swizzle-Stick and I nothing to do but have another drink. Between us we also managed to stack up a pile of things that will, sadly, never reach the garage sale having been loaded into the back of our car at bargain basement prices. Along with Harry.

Every buyer gets a cat!

Poor Harry was quite happy to get into the cat carrier and settle down, but less so about the ride home on my Beloved's knee. There was a significant amount of mewling, squeaking and otherwise making his dissatisfaction known. Fortunately it was a short trip.

Once home it was straight to the butter dish and a bit of dabbing on the paws - a method enthusiastically embraced by my Beloved and the Swizzle-Stick and, with somewhat more scepticism, by me. Then the door was opened and Harry was free to explore his new home.

Which leads us back to the photo ...

Harry - on a reconnaissance mission - wandering into the bedroom.

Fang - rudely awoken from sleep on the bed.

Q - hoping against hope that someone would want to play with her.

Three forces of nature coming together under our bed. Harry confused. Fang outraged. Q - hoping against hope that someone would want to play with her.

Such a shame that this blog doesn't have sound effects as the ensuing warbling/hissing/barking was something that had to be heard to be believed.

Let us just say that by the end of the night, Q was under the covers as usual. Harry had decided that 'bed cat' was a reasonable position and Fang had decamped to sleep 'al fresco' in disgust.

We'll keep you posted ...