It had to happen...

The Khartoum Hedges have acquired a cat!

On Sunday evening while drawing the bedroom curtains I watched Grant walk across the street to the Spaza shop. He was off to buy fresh juice for our evening relaxation on the balcony.  As he approaced the counter (which is  on the street) he bent down and picked up a cat. Now, in Khartoum it is  imposible to get near any cats let alone touch them. When he came indoors again, I asked him about the cat. He told me it was a small kitten, ever so friendly. As far as he could ascertain, it belonged to the storekeeper, Mohamed who wanted me down and see his cat.

Of course, I went across to the shop and returned with the cat! Mohamed had told me to "take the cat" which is what I did.

Licking the butter off her paws. You can hear her thinking: mmm, I like this place; I think I'll stay!

As soon as I got the cat indoors, I put butter on her paws. Although this might be concidered an old-wives-tale, I have always done this and the cats always stay... This little one was no exception. She (Grant says it's a female) immediately began to lick her paws.

A few minutes later, after inspecting her new environment, the cat started playing with a piece of paper Grant suspended under a chair.

Half an hour later, she fell asleep while we sipped our ice-cold juices on the balcony (She had to be chastised for terrorising the budgies)

While we had dinner, she tested the sofa

On Monday morning she discovered the ironing blanket which Miriams uses on the floor

Mum's handbag is just as good a place as any to catch a catnap!

We're rather perplexed about something: at this young age, the little cat is so confident and ultra- intelligent. The conditions under which she would have been born (behind an old crate or  on the roof of a building) is not condusive to such calm and obedient behaviour.

Oh ...she sleeps on our bed at night; Grant and I have taken to hanging off opposites sides of our Kingsize bed while the cat stretches out between us. She knows where her sandbox is and follows me around all day (when she's not sleeping). She eats the raw minced beef I put down for her and enjoys nibbling the mini-cat cookies in her dry-food bowl. 

She still has no name; Grant, who names all our pets, has to come up with a suitable monniker for this little girl.

All  I know is that she has slipped into life in the Hedges Kitty Hotel on the Nile with ease and panache which belies her background.