Gin

When I was only days away from the birth of my son Oisin, a ginger kitten strayed into my back garden. I was out putting clothes on the line and I heard a squeak coming from underneath our barna shed.
I told my husband, who followed me outside. The squeaking had stopped. He said maybe I was imagining it and needed a rest.
Later on that evening I went out to take the clothes back in from the clothesline and heard it again. I ventured over to the shed, which is perched on concrete blocks and beneath it just enough space for a small animal to hide. Looking underneath I spotted the source of the squeaking and there, crouched shyly was a tiny giner tabby kitten. I always fancied a cat this colour but could never find one. I had two black males already and wondered would they be hostile to this baby.
I took a saucer of milk out and left it for him. He scampered up to it and lapped happily, but as soon as I tried to approach him, he ran back to his hiding place. I felt wary of taking on a cat when I was so close to the birth of a baby. I called the vet and asked him for guidance.He said if I could catch ginger he'd take him off my hands and try to find a home for him.
Lots of drama followed. The kitten went into a neighbour's garden and although she like him, they had a dog who didn't.
My time came sooner than I expected and my baby was born three weeks prematurely, by emergency caesarian. This meant I was whisked into the world of motherhood and was also not allowed home from hospital for five days. I was quite weak from morphine and had a hard time adapting to the sooner than expected surprise. What I didn't know was that another surprise awaited me at home.
My husband had been a little lonely when I was away and left the double doors of the kitchen open on fine evenings while he had dinner. And when he wasn't looking, the kitten joined the two bigger cats one evening at their dinner bowls. Stephen was shocked that both large moggies not only accepted the tiny mite, but allowed him to share their basket too where he slept between them.
It was only after my first day home from hospital, that I got the strength to come downstairs to organise my bottle steriliser etc.
Stephen warned me there was a surprise for me. There all three cats sat, gazing up adoringly as I entered the kitchen and little ginger came over for a welcome.
Little ginger(Gin) is now big ginger and sadly the oldest cat Fluffy died of old age in 2008.The name Gin was my idea. My mother already had a white and ginger cat named Ginger and I thought it would be nice to think of another name. Stephen's favourite tipple is Gin and Tonic, after Heineken. We couldn't call him Heineken, but 'Gin' seemed to stick.

He's a force to be reckoned with where rodents and vermin are concerned. I regularly recieve presents on the doorstep or even sometimes on my kitchen floor. He even managed to kidnap a magpie one evening, but we set it free.
Life is never dull, with my husband and my now five year old son Oisin, Sparkie the remaining black cat and last but not least Gin. He's playful, affectionate and seems to have an endless apetite. He has a few favourite places. One is under my husband's recliner (he's banned from the sitting room). The other places would be up in our spare room on the sofa bed and just at the side of our bed when the duvet is spilling over onto the floor(he's banned from the bedroom too). But he still fits under that shed and now and then if he's missing I head out to where I first heard his sweet little squeak!
Angela Macari O'Looney