Our fine, pocket-gopher-killin' kitty has a bit of dramatic flair about her.She showed up all de-pregnified on Easter morning, then acted for weeks as if she had nothing to show for it. Yesterday afternoon, Mother's Day, she followed Poppy into the auction mart bleachers (where Miss Poppy practices singing), waited until the show was over, wandered over to a crack in the top row and called out a kitten!
Just one. Due to her rotundity on the penultimate day of her pregnancy, I'm going to hazard a guess that there were at least two others that didn't survive. Kind of a blacky, grey-y little body; I think it's a male. Hard to tell in the depths of an abandoned auction mart, and especially when any equipment is on the microscopic side. He seems to have a friendly outlook on life, and Roxanne is certainly proud of him.
Patch suggested we call him Asher (y'know, ashes and soot and all). He's got a friend named Asher as well. Then he revised it to "Ashfur", which somehow doesn't roll off the tongue in quite the same way.
Our farm's first baby!
