Jen and Stacey's Cat

There seems to be a culture here of leaving things to the last minute. Of not informing of necessary information. For example, I've had my textbooks changed on me, and only been told of this 5 minutes before I'm expected to teach the class. Here's a classic example, though the neighbours mentioned later were not actually Korean.

Steve, at the time preparing to leave for a prestigious English university, got a knock on the door and....... I'll let him tell it in his own words:

Neighbours. You can't pick 'em and you have to live next to 'em. And sometimes they knock on your door at 5:10am holding a kitten. And sometimes they tell you that they are moving to Taiwan in a couple of minutes and need a new home for the cat. And sometimes they then leave you with a small kitten in your hands wondering what the hell you are going to do with it (subsequently determined to be a her). Well anyway, that's what happened to me this morning. We can't keep the cat. Its not that we don't like cats, we own two. That's sufficient. Three is too many. There is no getting around that personal fact. Three cats is one too many cats. Of course, this isn't a cat. It's a kitten. And like all kittens it is biologically engineered to be cute. Real cute. Playfully, affectionately, won't stop climbing into your lap cute. Bouncing around, chasing your shoelaces cute. Damn near fatally cute. Which is why she needs to go and go now. She's housebroken and comes with a bags of kitten food and litter (purchased this morning). If you want, I'll also throw in an electricity converter that I believe used to belong to the neighbour mentioned previously. It was on our doorstep this morning. Fortunately, they didn't ring the bell to leave us that little present. As a point of interest, I know for certain that taking the cat to Canada or the USA is not a problem.

Steve had called me to come around and take photos of the kitten, then I was going to put them on the website with his text as a marketing ploy to assist with finding a new home for the little cat. I really had to stamp down on my emotions to not take her in myself. As it turned out, the marketing wasn't needed. Jen and Stacey, newly arrived from North America were discussing that morning where they could get a cat.

It's taken me six weeks to get round there with my camera and take 'happy ending' photos, and the cat is still very much a kitten. Sam, for that is what her name is, is certainly the most aggressively playful little thing I've seen. She's not content to be stroked unless she's digging her claws and biting whatever fingers are attempting to be affectionate. She's settled in nicely with Jen and Stacey, though when Steve claimed she was housebroken, he was using a little bit of poetic license.

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