Yep! Rory the bolshie Tom, is making up for having fasted, whilst in pursuit of lurve. We're convinced that the sweet ginger kit, spotted outside our home, and on three occasions about a mile away, is a result of his shenanigans. The nice man from the cat protection league, warned us that a new brood was likely to "turn up." Trapping his last wifelet and two kits was extremely stressful for us [and them]. Bags was given a blow by blow account of the ordeal. The vet sterilised all three and they were duly returned to the forest just beyond our back door. Mother and one kit [the other has vanished] call on us regularly, usually after sunset, when they enjoy a nourishing meal. So, Rory has been out and about and has found a new mate. No matter how awkward he is to trap, we shall need to bite the bullet over the winter. We shall then rename him - Rory Gonaballs. As much as we love him, he and his tribe cost us a pretty penny or two. If and when the new wee cottage is built, we shall take Rory with us. Funny, isn't it, that a homeless moggy has wheedled his way into our affections, and is now considered to be "one of the family"... 