Blue Heaven

Part 5

13 February 1982

11:00am Saturday

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Beau was settling well into your home.

Every time you looked at him, you couldn't get over it, he was the greatest thing you had ever seen! A blue little chunky boy!

He hadn't yet braved the stairs, but must consider himself king of the sitting room. He'd lay on the rug in front of the fire, sometimes on his back, warming his fuzzy stomach.

He had gotten used to you, and would butt his head into your hand to stroke him, purring loudly.

You had asked Paul his age, 8 weeks when he was brought home, so 9 weeks now. He was so little, you could grab him in one hand if you wanted.

It was true Beau was becoming curious about the stairs. Each night Paul and you would head up them with the baby to turn in for the night. He'd sometimes sit at the foot of the stairs, staring with his moony eyes, tail swishing back and forth. Other days, he'd be off doing his own thing, and not even notice.

Sometimes during the day, Beau would crouch, his tail swishing, then try and leap to the first step, his back legs kicking. He'd sit back down, sniff and bat his paw at it.

Paul's stance was to let him figure it out for himself. Beau having access to the first floor would open up more opportunities for his shenanigans, and you'd figure things out from there.

Beau might be chunky, but he was a kitten with kitten energy. He'd have bursts of excitement, mostly in the dead of the night. He'd sprint across the floor, attacking the curtains, skittering beneath the sofa, his favourite hiding spot. He'd gotten into your yarn one day, and you'd let out a squeal of delight seeing him tangled up and squeaking, pupils massive!

You would replace his kitten food dish. Whenever it ran out, you'd be sure to know the way he'd mewl and cry like Paul in bed.

It was the dawn of another day in the cottage. You were washing up in the kitchen, while Paul played with Beau in the sitting room.

It was funny, Paul treated him more like a puppy, roaring and rubbing his fingertips all over his fuzzy stomach. Any concern had waned realising that Beau somehow enjoyed this, reciprocating the play and getting excited, batting with his paws and play-snarling.

You went to wake Rosemary from her nap at 11:15am. Oh... she was getting so big already. Hardly, but it felt like a lot. You leant over the edge of the cot, your hair hanging down. Her big dark eyes were open, but she didn't cry. You smiled down at her.

Today you were leaving the cottage for the first time in ages. Paul had been driving to the nearest town for groceries or supplies, but you'd stayed back with the baby. She was very dependent on you for feedings, and you hadn't felt much need to bring her out. Though, it was best to expose her to society, especially as your return to London neared.

It would be nice for yourself too, to have a change of scenery, even though the country life was relaxing.

"I don't want you to go mad." Paul had said, sitting in the armchair, eyebrows raised, gesturing with his finger as if he were teaching a lesson. "Sitting at home with a baby for weeks on end. That's how women used to go mad, and they'd call it hysteria."

You met that with cool amusement, but didn't see a problem with stepping out for once.

Paul dressed the baby to go. She had a few layers, along with her fluffy white coat and knit cap. You went to the car, and made the drive into town.