A few days back, Vallarie rescued an orphaned kitten on the way back from college. Not surprising, because history has to repeat itself. Swati did the same thing 25 years ago, when she had brought home an injured black kitten, small enough to fit into your palm. He went on to be known as Shakun (marathi for Omen) and his adventurous pursuits (gastronomic ones in the kitchen and amorous ones in the nearby alley) have become part of the family folklore. And now more than two decades later, there arrives this frisky little kitten. The usual protests from grandmother followed, but the kitten miraculously found the bathroom to go and mark its territory! The grandma had no option but to get convinced of its well-behaved manners, and very soon it occupied a little basket and the cozy warmth of Vallarie's jacket. It has now been named Whisky, for its fine whiskers. The name suits me just fine, because now I can say without worrying, 'there's always whisky at home'! 
Plus, not always will you get to see a cocktail of whisky and milk! Vallarie is convinced that Whisky suffers from dissociated identity disorder (rather, Whisky is endowed with it). Very often, it climbs on top of anything nearby (that 'anything' could be you) and surveys her kingdom around, much like an eagle would sit atop a high perch. 
Then the other day, we saw her hang upside down from a curtain and crawl along in that state, much like a monkey or a three-toed sloth. Whisky also believes that she turns into an owl in the night and becomes a lion-cum-eagle by the day. I am ok with that too, as long as she doesn't start believing she is Pushkaraj Apte....
Then the other day, we saw her hang upside down from a curtain and crawl along in that state, much like a monkey or a three-toed sloth. Whisky also believes that she turns into an owl in the night and becomes a lion-cum-eagle by the day. I am ok with that too, as long as she doesn't start believing she is Pushkaraj Apte....
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