Puss in Bin

RIP Flea (that was its name)

Yesterday Paul found a tiny, little kitten outside our house, it couldn’t have been more than a couple of days old, so god dam cute, I just wanted to munch it! ‘Can we keep him???????????? Pleeeeaaaaassssseeeee???????’ I asked Paul, Paul had already started to make it a bed out of old boxes so I presumed the answer was yes. Feeling like Mumbai’s equivalent to Saint Teresa I wrapped it up in a bright orange towel (I don’t know why the colour of the towel matters) and left it outside (it had fleas) just for a moment whilst we nipped to the shops to get some milk and flea treatment. After skipping home (because that’s what happy people do) we peered into the corner where we had left it…. there was the bright orange towel but no cute and munchable kitten?? We asked the lift attendant if he had seen it, ‘Don’t worry Madame it has gone’ he said, ‘What do you mean it has gone?’ I replied- with concern  ‘I threw it away’ he said ‘You threw a poor little, innocent kitten away you heartless *!!@/$ ?’ Is what I wanted to reply but instead replied ‘You threw it away?’ ‘Yes Madame’ he said looking very pleased with himself.  Like two 7 year olds who had just been told they can't have a kitten, we skulked back in to the house and started to contemplate life without a kitten, it was hard, very hard. Luckily ‘When Sharks Attack’ was on Animal Planet to cheer us up. Phew!