We picked up our new chocolate Burmese kitten in Upper Hutt after work yesterday and brought him over to Martinborough. We were warned that he was a bit of a goer and we should consider renaming him Denis the Menace.
He turned out to be a composed and confident kitten. A year ago, his predecessor, Java, yowled all the way over the Rimutakas and then scuttled behind the sofa when we arrived. We hardly heard a thing from Mochachino. When we let him out of his carry-box, he marched out confidently and systematically explored the kitchen. After half an hour or so he transferred his attention to Liz and me and started purring, head-butting and playing:
Here he is a day later, lying on my high class gardening trousers and swatting at me:
He’s going to be a good one…
But so was Java and we still miss him.