Not just kittens

It’s not just kittens that live under the house at Kibbenjelok.  For a few days I had been hearing funny little growls under and around the house in the middle of the night.  We have quite a few possums and pademelons around the garden which come down to feed on the grass in the evening and then tromp up and down the veranda, keeping us awake all night.  Despite their cuddly looks, both can be quite fearsome and will growl at each other given the slightest provocation (mainly food).  “Maybe it’s just the p-animals having a tussle” I thought.  “I wish they’d keep it down”.

Surely something this cute couldn't make those awful growling noises??

Surely something this cute couldn’t make those awful growling noises??

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Chapter Eight – Rosie

This post was written by Gay Klok sometime over 2007-2009 and chronicles the making of Kibbenjelok. You can find the original post here Rosie. I am working my way through and preserving as much of Gay’s writings on Kibbenjelok as I can find, in case the site disappears one day.  I am also compiling all of these on the History page for easy future reference.

Rosie

Wreath2

An amazing and loving cat.  Rosie died in May 1998 and I dedicate this chapter to her memory.

RIP

Rosie - my loving scrap of a cat

Rosie – my loving scrap of a cat

Rosie was a white cat with calico markings.   She was petite and very intelligent.   After we bought the farm, we employed a group of painters to smarten up the walls and do some minor alterations with doors and windows inside the house.   This became rather awkward as we were both working in Hobart and Middleton was an hour’s drive from our Hobart home, however, we tried to drive down as often as we could during the week. Once, during one of these dashes down to Middleton after work , I was in the kitchen area when I heard Kees call out to me, “Gay, come and see what I can see.”   I ran to the sun room and Kees was pointing outside through the fish net covered window, where I saw a tiny, little, mangy white cat.   She was sitting half under the house and looked half-starved. “Oh!   Suss said she thought there was a mother cat in the barn when she came down the other day,” I told Kees, “This must be one of the kittens.”   The words were hardly out of my mouth when I noticed two tiny little heads poking out from beneath the white cat with calico markings and as we silently watched, the kittens cautiously emerged and I knew then that the diminutive white cat with calico markings was a mother. (more…)