mothers on the verge

Still can't find that damned cat . Kids are not speaking to me and have announced an all-out homework strike until pathetic fluffy skinny thing is located. Have tried to lie through my teeth that kitten is having a happy time doing cute kitten things with its mummy and siblings. No dice.  Explained that someone else has probably found it (someone who doesn't already have three psychotic felines and a hotline to the local vet) and is lavishing it with care and devotion, not to mention providing kitten treats and catnip on tap. Firstborn just rolled her eyes at me while the Small(er) One did a surprisingly good impression of a sneer. Have tried bribery. The Small(er) One nearly broke under the temptation of unlimited  Walnut Whips  and Bounty Bars but Firstborn intervened. That child is destined to be the next Arthur Scargill , no doubt about it. Peace is currently AWOL at our house with no immediate hope of return. How ...

We all know that the British are soppy to the point of stupid about animals. Unfortunately, I too seem to have developed this foolish national trait. Having adopted three insane moggies earlier in the year who have taken over our lives with their incessant demands for food and attention (bit like the kids really), caused heart-wrenching damage to our furniture (er, ditto, only advantage of cats over kids is that cats can't draw on the walls with marker pens), and cost us an arm and a leg in vetinary bills, I would have said that I am totally catted out.  That is, until Firstborn spotted a tiny kitten on our way home from the supermarket yesterday . There it was, a furry bony thing with stick legs and enormous ears, probably not more than a month old, rummaging in a bin by the park. There are armies of stray cats hanging out on every street corner in Dubai, so it's not like it's a big surprise, but something about this kitten touched Firstborn's tender little...

"I hate you! I'm going to find another mummy. You'll be sorry when I'm gone! I hope you cry for a million years and infinity!" Small feet thunder down the corridor and a door slams, an enraged wail emenates from the bedroom. This was the Small(er) One's response to being chided for trying to pull one of the kittens out from under the sofa by its tail. A similar response was evoked when she was told off for playing tug-of-war with her sister - the object in the middle being our very cross Mama cat. Now the ginger kitten starts to tremble when he hears the Small(er) One's dulcet tones, while the black kitten hides and Mama cat looks for the nearest exit. Alpha and I thought having pets would be good for the children - you know, teach them about being gentle and respectful of animals. Pah. The kids treat the cats like toys, albeit more interesting versions that can be chased and captured. Thankfully for the kids these are incredibly tolerant cats. They ...