Usually there are a few other temporary stray kittens in the apartment, but I never saw any father cat there before.
Today Susan and her kittens are under the stove, and Susan keeps hissing at a big tiger-striped tomcat crouching under the sofa.
He turns his head away from her and looks like he never intended to get mixed up with family life.
For a stray cat he's sleek and healthy-looking.
Every time he moves a whisker, Susan hisses again, warningly.
She believes in no visiting rights for fathers.
Kate pours me some tea and asks what's doing.
"My pop is full of hot air, as usual," I say.
"Takes one to know one," Kate says, catching me off base.
I change the subject.