Confined.

Here we are, Tuesday morning; Day Four of Céleste's recuperation indoors. I remember why Wenusia's post-sterilisation time was so difficult. Céleste is sitting on the windowsill; she is looking me in the eyes, miaowing most plaintively. "Please let me out!" she is trying to say... It was so much easier when I had her brothers castrated. Kept inside overnight and they were allowed out the very next morning.

I have decided to keep Céleste's five kittens inside as well. Unlike Arcturus, Czester, Pacyfik, Scrapper and indeed Céleste, all of whom I allowed out albeit sparingly while Wenusia was in recovery mode, the current brood is a full six weeks younger and currently less demanding of the outdoor life. So they play, sleep and eat exclusively indoors, offering emotional support and solidarity to their incarcerated mother.

As ever, ChatGPT is really useful with explanations and tips in this situation. It warns against early release, saying that an ill-judged leap could tear internal wounds that have not fully healed, and suggests "leaving treats hidden around the house" to keep Céleste amused.

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Comparing Wiktor, Dorian, Fisia, Mars and Kwincia with their uncles' generation, I see one big difference – toilet training. This lot are far worse. There are regular poos left in the cat baskets, behind the sofa, under my bed or on the bathroom floor. Somehow Wenusia proved to be far more rigorous in teaching her kittens where they can and where they can't defecate. Yesterday, I picked up my rucksack before going out and it smelled of cat wee. A quick spray of sandalwood-scented air freshener did the trick.

Having all the kittens in the house all the time with mum means I can observe the rhythm of their daily lives; the three modes, and how they toggle between them. There's a beautiful time when the manic activity of play – chasing, fighting, knocking things over – settles into a period of serene rest. One by one, they find somewhere to crash and switch off. Eventually, the house becomes quiet. Mum (below) has settled down on the sofa, giving pause to her pleas for early release.

Kwińcia finds a spot by my laptop (below). A safe place to nap.

Below: Wiktor (I currently call him 'Wiktol', as my children would have called him before they could pronounce their 'r's properly) cleaning his toes prior to dropping off on the windowsill.

Adult cats are far more careful and tend not to knock things over; I have to a great extent kitten-proofed the house, but now and then, things fall. Nothing serious; a tin of cat food from the top of the fridge, a dustpan-and-brush from the windowsill in the sień.

Having Céleste and her five kittens in all the time means serving out a whole lot more cat food. They are joined at mealtimes by their elders; first thing this morning I had all 12 cats and kittens gathered around the bowls all chomping away, quite something. I have become a zookeeper; feeding time in the small-cat enclosure. To keep costs down, I have downloaded the Biedronka app and started going there, to play off one retail chain (Lidl) against the other (Biedronka). I check out the cat-food offers in both shops. Buy-one-get-one-free deals get me through one door rather than the other. The savings can be immense. For the cats it means greater access to the premium stuff that I'd not be buying at regular prices.

Once Céleste has recovered, I hope she will be through with vets for a long, long time. Her daughters will (sadly) need to be sterilised; their only hope of procreation is if someone reaches out to me wanting a healthy, whole young female or two to produced a litter of darling kittens. (If you do, let me know! Kwincia and Fisia are up for adoption to anyone wanting to experience the joy of being surrounded by kittens. Easily beats exotic holidays!)

Interesting to read this post from October of last year for the contrast between the postoperative days for Wenusia and Céleste...

This time last year:
Consciously, mindfully, averting misfortune

This time two years ago:
Warsaw's progress to normality

This time five years ago:
Summer winding down

This time nine years ago:
My Mazovian roots

This time ten years ago:
My father revisits his battleground

This time 12 years ago:
Over the hill at Harrow

This time 13 years ago:
Behold and See – the Miracle of Lublin – Pt 1.

This time 15 years ago:
Quiet afternoon in the bazaar

This time 15 years ago:
The politics of the symbol