Quollgirl is my Australian daughter. She rarely blogs (I need to take lessons in blogging restraint from her) but when she does, she writes a treasure. I hope you enjoy meeting Tarqui and her splendid humans.
The Queen of the Night hated me from early kitten-hood.
‘Look’, said Andrew, holding out the tiny ball of fluff, ‘she’ll fit into the palm of your hand’. The bleeding stopped eventually, but the emotional damage was done.
Pete, Tarquin’s littermate, was easier to handle, and would follow me like a dog to the neighbour’s house when I went for a drink after coming off night shifts. He eyeballed me with devotion, even when I didn’t have chicken, and would purr if I checked his ears for ticks or his belly for fleas.
Andrew moved the whole pack down from Townsville in his little white van. Lupa the cattle-dog sat on the front seat, Pete lay on the dashboard like some eccentric dash-mat, and Tarquin, above such silliness, sequestered herself in the back and thought dark thoughts about the illusory nature of happiness and the passing of time. Or maybe…
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