Little Ben, our new arrival, just trotted into the kitchen.
We were anxious–hadn’t see him since mid-morning.
It’s a sunny autumn day in the Tarn and the doors have been open to welcome October.
I looked high and low–no sign.
I turned to come downstairs again and a small figure, stretching and yawning, sidled out of the bedroom. Must have been under our bed.
He arrived last week–word-of-mouth job.
Our friend Flo knew we were on the lookout for a companion for Beau.
A ginger female would be perfect–an echo of dear departed Butterscotch (little Mother).
Flo saw an advert in the organic shop she goes to regularly.
“Household overwhelmed with animals–has to let go delightful found kitten–about five weeks old”.
Meredith rang the number and picked up little Ben–already well named–the next day.
Jet black–and male!
Beau’s nose was quickly out-of-joint.
More–he even seemed afraid of Ben–backing off when the youngster came towards him.
We’d been used to the Little Prince always confronting perceived danger; challenging–cat and dog alike.
Now our boy seemed cowed.
Our plans appeared to be in ruins.
A couple of days later and I’m about to go to bed when two figures streak across the bedroom.
One–Ben–hides behind the hanging bed cover and the other–Beau–crouches, head well forward, ready to pounce.
I watch, enchanted, as the chase continues.
At one point Ben shocks Beau into a four pawed take-off into mid-air, by shooting out from under a chair.
We have lift-off– it seems!
Ben’s size shows us how much Beau has grown.
He’s doing the things Beau used to do but is doing less–like fighting a mat to the death.
He’s keen to see more of the world.
Fascinated by life on the outside!
Too busy checking things out to pose for a portrait.
Beau has a younger “brother” and our time marveling at kitten spectaculars is extended.