Subordinates: Twinkie

As I've mentioned previously, Twinkie was born in a drain. That's not strictly true. She was found as a kitten in an air-conditioning duct - there was a drain closeby however.

In truth, Twinkie and I have a good understanding... we spend a lot of time together... we are close... oh, alright then - I like her! Satisfied?

Of course she has no breeding in her. But she cannot be entirely blamed for that (I have a suspicion as to the identity of her sire - but I will save my amazing powers of deduction for another time). I've tried to nurture a certain level of etiquette into her, and I must say she's turning out quite better than first anticipated. And her hygiene habits are to be commended.

Still, her level of judgement remains questionable - I can only hope that this will improve with age. Her decision to befriend that horrendous Monkey is not one of her shining moments. And to engage her in stimulating conversation for longer than five minutes is a considerable strain - especially since her usual response to anything is in monosyllables and ever so slightly repetitive:

Twinkie, my dear, any plans for this afternoon's garden excursion? "FOOD!"
What do you think of that new ginger tomcat next door? "FOOD!"
What would you have written as your epitaph? "FOOD!"
Is that new brand of cat litter to your liking? "(pause)... erm... Food?

Only one other may share the sacred basket:


Inspite of these few shortcomings I like to think of Twinkie's glass as being half empty rather than half full.

Despite her small, dwarfish, elf-like, stunted, easily ignored stature, she has great potential that girl.