1st August 2008

My husband got a kitten. A small fluffy ginger fuzz ball. It is very cute but I'm trying to be cross with him. Before we went on holiday he mentioned the kittens in the pet shop next to where he works and I said no, we're about to go away and its not the right time. The day after we got back he went to Tesco to buy bread and milk and called me. This is how the conversation went;

"Go and look at your mobile."

"Why?"

"I've sent you something."

"What?"

"Just go look."

My suspicion mounted.

"You're in the pet shop aren't you? No we're not having a kitten."

"How do you know that's what it is?"

"Because I know you too well and I'm not stupid."

"Hmmm... I'll see you in a minute."

"Don't come back with a kitten."

He'd already gone.

I sighed.

Now we have a kitten. And I'm sneezing, yes I'm allergic to cats. Which he knows. He hopes I'll acclimatise to it. The two-year-old is of course besotted, he spent an hour chasing it round this afternoon trying to cuddle her. The kitten thought this was a great game. But my son got a little frustrated when she wouldn't sit still.

So now we are: a taxi driver, a two-year-old, a baby, an eight year old on alternate weekends, two immortal gerbils (no matter how hard I try), a ginger kitten and a frazzled mother/wife/food source. This house is getting smaller.