Dear Charlie and Dexter...

Last year was a year that will be ever etched in my brain, as 2012 was the year I gave birth to our beautiful daughter (in our spare room in rather a rush might I add!)

But sadly, it will also be the year that, just four weeks after our little girl being born, we had the horrible news that our beloved cat, Dibble, had been run over and killed.

Before becoming parents, my husband and I were already parents in some way. Dibble had, for three years, been the object of our affection and, having no human competition, was essentially our baby.

Devastated by our loss, we quickly made the decision to have another cat. On advice from friends, we made the rather rash decision to take on not one, but two little furballs. An odd move. Particularly for new parents.

A week after losing our boy, an old school friend put a message on Facebook about some kittens she had to give away – it was either us, or the RSPCA. Our grief did the talking, and we instantly offered to take two. A girl and a boy. Or so I thought.

On bringing the little bundles home and discovering they were both living, breathing, flea farms, a trip to the vets quickly ensued. And it was there that we discovered our Charlie and Dexter (girl and boy respectively) were in actual fact, as the Polish lady vet put it, “you ‘av a Charlie girl and a Dexter girl”. Ah. That’ll be two girls then.

From the look on my face, clearly the vet thought I needed proof. But what I didn’t need was the ‘vulva curveball’ that she threw in to help me understand how to sex a kitten (something I hope I never have to do again, without the aid of a vet. Or in fact at all.)

So my poor husband was now a lone stag in a house full of hens, and we had two potential kitten-making machines, who were definitely not leaving the threshold until they had been sterilised to within an inch of their lives!

Having never had two cats, we were relying on the advice and good will of our friends and neighbours, who insisted we doubled up on the feline front.

Well. What can I say? I mean don’t get me wrong, the plus points outlined by said friends did come to fruition: “They’ll keep each other company”, “They love to play together”, “They’ll be sooo cute.” Granted.

However, what they failed to mention was the fighting, the endless running (which sounds like a herd of mini elephants rampaging down your hallway, generally at 4am when you’ve just put your daughter back to bed!) And don’t even get me started on the sporadic urinating and knocking over of vases, mugs and standard lamps.

This, FRIENDS, was not indicated in the sellers guide to purchasing more than one cat. We are still awaiting a full explanation..answers on a postcard please.

The clever thing the rascals manage to pull off with pinache is the regular snuggles and looks that say “I’m really sweet and never naughty honestly mummy”. This results in complete forgiveness for their indiscretions and a memory that can only remember quiet moments, sleepy furry babies, and cute ‘head tilting’ expressions. Clever.

This isn’t to say I’m not totally desperate for the cat flap to again be put into use again, I’ll be prepraring it with a can of WD40 weeks before they get ‘fixed’ - a word we try to avoid in this house, just in case they hear.

In fact, instead of the nervous edging outside that was permitted with ‘our Dibble’, and the anxious waits until he returned from next door’s garden 15 minutes later, I believe I will send ‘the girls’ off with a flask and a packed lunch and expect them back later that afternoon!

Yes Dear Charlie and Dear Dexter, you are very much loved by your non-furry parents (if I’m honest I think your furry parents had about as much interest in you as a Jeremy Kyle contestant). But please be aware that I am very much looking forward to your cat adulthood, and for the sound of pattering small feet to slow down, simmer and become gentle, silent adult stalks, interspersed with hours of sleep and endless purring.

Off to bed now. Kittens, start your engines!