Kitopatra

Just to prove I'm not lying when I told everyone how gorgeous my kitty is... Here's a nice shot of his Cleopatra style eyeliner.  Good thing too.  I wouldn't clean up cat poo for anyone less.

Birthday Boy

Ross with his birthday present

Enjoying a relaxing family birthday for Ross' coming of age (33 is coming of age in hobbit years).  

New arrival...

A rare moment caught in the lens

What a week!

Saturday: rushed to pick Ross up from work and get us to the cat rescue centre before it closed.  Was chosen by Angelo - a 10 month-old playful chappie who was the only kit to survive from his family when they were found outside a bed factory.

Sunday: after a cooling off period (not to mention a quick run to the Warehouse to get food and litter) we went back and signed an adoption contract for Angelo.  

Monday: although he was initially fairly calm, Angelo had by now realised he wasn't just on a daytrip.  He decided that under the sofa was the best place to hide.

Tuesday: Angelo was even more scared than ever, and still hiding under the sofa.  Flatmates and myself getting impatient.  Only eats when we're not here and we're worried about where he's peeing.

Wednesday: at 6am I come into the lounge to find pee on the sofa (a sign of stressed cats) and no cat.  The kitchen window was open.  Flatmates and I hunted the house - no sign.  Tearful and ashamed, I visit the neighbours and call the rescue centre.  Kindly, the owner tells me to think positive, call the local vets and flyer the neighbourhood.  Which I do.  Coming home, I find Angelo.  He had never left.  If I wasn't so relieved I might be annoyed.

Thursday: Angelo has turned the corner, and agrees to cuddles, at first cautiously, but soon more enthusiastically.  His repertoire of perches expands to the windowsill (still hidden behind the curtain) and the dining room chairs.

Friday: the start of Ross' birthday weekend!  We head up to his parents after work.

Leaving a lover

Leaving Italy is like leaving a lover.  For a long time after, you think about how things might have been, wishing you were together.  You long for the sight of him, for his touch and the sound of his laughter.  Simple things remind you of him, bringing a smile, and then perhaps a frown.  Uprooted, supplanted, for the longest time you think about the way he would have done things.  You have no interest in anyone else.
You have to stop yourself reminiscing for fear of boring people.  You hear people telling you, "Sue, it's time to move on," but you can't help wishing it didn't have to be so.  No one else seems to understand what you need like he did.  You feel only half-alive without the joy he once brought to your soul.
With luck, with time, he will become a happy memory.

Bugnara castle and village in the Valle Peligna