My brother lives in Ballymore, which is between Dingle and Ventry and quite isolated, and we used to share the house before he married. One day, a utterly malnourished and distressed ginger kitten turned up in the driveway, and we managed to keep him alive and nurse him to health.
I have him now, and he’s Gatsby, the ice cream cat. Ivan, the ice cream dog, adored him, and they used to share a bed much to the amazement of visitors (Ivan is a massive beast) until I moved into a separate house.
A couple years passed, and a second malnourished ginger kitten arrived. My aunt has that one. Now, there’s a third. Una, my little niece, wants to call him “Chi Chi.”
One really has to wonder what’s going on. Is Ballymore the place to dispose of ginger kittens?
In any case, Ivan is absolutely delighted to have a new feline companion. The poor kitten, although doing well, is seriously in danger of being licked to death. I think the poor thing needs some ice cream…