I have two found kitten-cats from earlier this year: each came to me unexpectedly, through their having been lost/ abandoned or perhaps simply through their own typical cat misadventure.
They're a few months apart in age; one seems rather pedigree, the other a very typical street cat of this medieval quarter.
They've bonded as if from the same litter- real brothers.
The larger but younger of the two, Piseag, must've been the runt of the litter - lots of wheezing and coughing and general weakness, but he took a bit of homeopathic treatment, and improved enormously from it.
Beniamino, on the other hand, is a petite lord and master of the street - extremely sociable with everyone and everything, and visits other houses to be fed. He has a round tummy.
This is the street bench outside the Arthouse. The cats love it since I pulled the cushions out of the garden and replaced them (some kids had thrown them down)... They were such a picture, with Beniamino's tail, their ecstatic wee faces appreciating the cooler September morning, their full immersion in their pleasure and their resting in the midmorning.
Little perfect moments like this are such a treasure, and remind me that this is what Life is.
