Two days left - and a cat's tale

We have two cats. They are five months old, and they are lovely. Ratty and Mole. Yes, I know, naming a cat after a lesser animal in the hierarchy of the mammal kingdom is a bit weird, but they're not named after animals, they are named after characters in one of the greatest books ever written; Wind In The Willows, by Kenneth Grahame.

Their mother, Nadia, came with the house when we moved in four years ago. She was lovely too. She lived in the garden, and as is the way with most Cairo cats, had a litter of kittens almost every six months. We could never get to her in time to fix her up. Anyway, when Ratty and Mole and their brother and sister were three weeks old, Nadia disappeared and never came back. We think she must have been killed by a car, and so we had to become cat parents.

We hand reared them on made up kitten replacement milk formula, feeding them with syringes, giving them baths because they couldn't clean themselves, and giving them plenty of love. We found homes for two, and kept two for ourselves.

About a month ago, Ratty had a swelling on his shoulder so I took him to the vet who told me that another cat had bitten him, that this was a common reaction, and so he ahd a treatment of antibiotics, and within a few days the swelling went down. A couple of days ago I discovered something sharp sticking out of his shoulder so I took him to the vet's this evening. After a minor piece of surgery, the vet removed a sewing needle from Ratty's shoulder, which must have been lying under his skin for about four or five weeks. It had broken into three pieces, and I have it in a little bag to show the kids. So it wasn't a cat bite after all, it was a self inflicted stabbing!

My cat is well hard. You try walking round with a steel rod under the skin of your shoulder for a month and not complaining once. I'm impressed.