Guffy is not going to die.
Clearly there was not a seventh kitten in there, so it is a jolly good job that we did not blow a couple of thousand pounds on a hideously messy and upsetting cat Caesarian. She is recovering instead.
She would have been practically dead by now if there had still been an unborn kitten, so we can be pretty sure that there isn’t.
Instead of dying she is looking after her four surviving kittens, very determinedly. She is spending all of her time curled tightly around them in their nest and feeding them, patiently. Sometimes she hops out of the nest to stretch her cramped legs, and potters into the conservatory to see if I have remembered to refill her bowl, but mostly she is just busy being a mother.
I am so relieved I can hardly tell you.
All four kittens are tabby coloured, two with white patches, like their mother. I noticed this afternoon that one kitten’s eyes are already starting to open. This is shockingly early for a two day old kitten, so she must have been dreadfully overdue with them, no wonder she was so huge.
Rosie likes the kittens as well. They do not squeak very often, because Guffy is so thorough in her feeding and washing activities, but whenever one of them does, Rosie goes dashing over to their nest, claws skittering on the floor in her haste, to lick them reassuringly. Guffy does not seem to mind this at all, and indeed, purrs encouragingly when Rosie joins their safe little family, snuffling lovingly at the kittens and polishing them with a large, wet tongue.
There is not enough room in the nest for Rosie to get in it and curl up as well, although she has tried once or twice. I am very glad that Guffy did not die, but if she had, then I should think that Rosie would have done her very best to make up for her absence, which is a reassuring thought. The world can be a very kindly place sometimes.
They are going to grow up being thoroughly loved.
I have promised Rosie that we will do our best to find her a boyfriend next time she comes into season. It would make her very happy to have some more babies of her own.
Obviously I have not spent my day rushing over to the cat nest whenever a tiny mew happens. I am relieved to be able to say that Guffy and Rosie can manage that very happily between them, and my assistance is not required, beyond filling everybody’s food dishes occasionally.
Instead I have spent my day on the telephone to various insurance companies, and on the computer trying to work out details for Lucy’s wedding.
Our taxi insurance is due. I am not looking forward to this because it is going to cost us even more than a cat Caesarian. Hence I have spent a great deal of time during the last couple of days on the telephone, fending off the circling predatory insurers, who all know when the premium is due, and have been desperately trying to drive down their prices.
I am so bloodily minded about this that quite a few of them have just flapped off already, gloomily resigned to there being no spare flesh in this killing.
The few that remain are lined up, one against the other, because even greatly reduced bare bones are better than nothing. I need to get the insurance as economically as can be managed, but I am feeling sympathetic towards them. It is not an easy time to be an insurance company. They have not got any cash either.
It is a good job that Guffy did not need the surgery, but that does not mean that we have got cash to waste.
Mark’s telephone is still not ringing and so we are not going to give in easily.
