Home Time

Late afternoon and the sun is gentle over the airfield. My flight will be called in around twenty minutes, so I have found an out of the way seat near a weeping fig, to pass the time.

Hopefully I’ll be back again in the summer and see how the kittens have grown. The ginger and white is, predictably, my favourite. He bounds over to say hello when you go out of the door, and seems to be bigger and more robust already. His sister is friendly enough, but more absorbed by her toys. He is the footballer of the pair, which is maybe why Westie Boy was watching with such concentration from the window this morning. Westie Boy is no mean player himself. A bit greedy with the ball I’d say. The opportunities I had to participate in our game this morning were rare enough for me to gather kindling between kicks and leave it by the door, ready for a fire I shan’t see. I took some wobbly footage which I’ll look at when I am home.
Everyone else was saying it was Baltic outside, but football games with a determined Westie are very good for getting the blood circulating. What would a football game between the ginger kitten who I am mentally calling Fido and Westie Boy be like? Barks of foul as Fido picks the ball up and runs off with it in his mouth?
Or maybe they would play with Westie Boy’s indestructible ball which is too big for ether player to pick up and the one chance this human had of snatching play back at crucial moments.
Maybe this is the plane that will be taking me home. It’ll be too late to collect MasterB tonight, but tomorrow morning, bright and early I’ll head to the Cattery and bring my boy home.

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