I needed help reassuring a nervous cat but in the end it was me whose nerves were calmed. That is the magic of pets
I am writing this after my first 48 hours of kitten-rearing. As yet, she does not have a name. I wanted something that fits her personality but couldn’t find anything that translates as “carpet destroyer”; and my plan to honour her Persian heritage and magisterial ruff with something regal seemed silly given she is 15cm tall. (Although it would be funny to name her Genghis just to hear the vet call: “Genghis Khan?”)
It has been emotional. When she arrived she fled under the sofa. There she remained, trembling in the shadows, invisible except for the glassy flash of two blue eyes, refusing to be coaxed. I paced, I fretted, I Googled: “Have I traumatised my cat by adopting it?” I did not sleep.
