The cat has had six kittens. They are little rats. Stubby noses, eyes squeezed shut for the next ten days or so, skinny stick legs and spindly tails. They also squeak furiously when taken more than a few centimetres away from their mother which further enhances the rat metaphor.
Nir lies on his stomach, legs spread out behind him, face supported on his hands and gazes lovingly at the mother cat Mitzie and the six squirmy little things latching on to her. He is in love. I am at my wits end and thinking 'Come six weeks, they are in the pet shop and the mum is in the vet getting done!'
Life is cruel.
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