Enter Lily...

Or, as I will call her, Miol Draide, the great grey shark. She earned the name after sneaking upon my feet this morning and curling up around them after taking a test nibble to make sure that they were no threat to her. The brazen hussy, thinking she can endear herself to me so easily. I held out until the head butts to the face began and she was a total love sponge.

She's got a clean bill of health from the vet. Turns out our grey lady is five months old, no fleas, no mites, and almost fairly certainly going to be part of the menagerie here. While our vet didn't recognise her, we're still going to be on the look out for 'Lost Kitten' posters because she's too comfortable around people and far too healthy to have been feral. If no posters are spotted, it looks as if Lily will be staying. Puck, of course, is quite miffed. Quite. Barbie barked once at her, the token 'mind your place pipsqueak' and has since ignored her.

I need my head examined.