with their absurd tails raised like little raft-masts and shrieks of excitement as every now and then somebody slipped and dangled dangerously by one paw, Solomon would stump off all by himself and sit on top of the cotoneaster.
  It was a cotoneaster horizontalis , it reached quite three feet up the coalhouse wall, and Solomon solemnly sitting on the top of it trying to look as if he had conquered Everest was absolutely heart-rending. Even the other kittens felt sorry for him. One day when Sugieh issued her clarion call to come and be pretty on the gate they all went up the cotoneaster with Solomon instead. Unfortunately Solomon wasn't expecting them and in the heat of the moment he fell off and sprained his paw. Whatever happened, he just couldn't win.
  The one thing in which he did surpass the other kittens â other than having the biggest feet and the largest appetite â was his voice. Being Siamese, of course, they all had enormous voices. Even the she-kitten, who was much quieter than her brothers and given to periods of silent contemplation on top of the curtain rail, occasionally startled visitors by emitting a cracked soprano 'Waaaaah' from ceiling level when struck by some particularly profound thought.
  Solomon, however, even as a kitten, had a voice only to be compared with a bullfrog. And he never stopped talking. We used to hear him sometimes talking in the middle of the night. When we went in to see what was wrong â we never ignored noises in the night since the time we found Blondin hanging behind a door, trying to suffocate himself in the sleeve-lining of a coat â there, invariably, were the other three kittens snoring away peacefully like little white angels, Sugieh lying on her side with one eye open, obviously wishing him to the devil â and Solomon, bolt upright in the basket, talking to a spider on the wall.
  Solomon loved spiders. When he found one too old or infirm to get away he ate it noisily with his mouth open â a habit he had inherited from Sugieh â talking and chewing appreciatively at the same time. It took us quite a time to discover which kitten it was who gave an ecstatic 'Woohoohoo' at intervals while eating rabbit, like a small damp train going through the Rockies, but in the end that turned out to be Solomon too.
  He had a vocabulary all his own, which for our own good we quickly learned to understand. A black head appearing round the living room door when we had company and uttering a small but urgent 'Wooooh' meant he was sorry to intrude but the earth-box was dirty, and he wanted it changed in a hurry. Solomon didn't like dirty earth-boxes. A raucous 'Waaow' accompanied by banging noises from the kitchen as he tried valiantly to open the pantry door meant that he was hungry. Loud and prolonged wailing from somewhere up on the hillside behind the cottage meant that Solomon, after setting out with the others all bluff and bustle and Head of the Family, had once more got left behind and Âwanted to be rescued. The only time he couldn't talk was when he was feeding from Sugieh and if he opened his mouth he lost his place. Then, instead of talking, he waggled his big bat ears so frantically he looked as if he were about to take off.
  Solomon, of course, wasn't the only one with character. It was just that as he was the only Seal Point, and we were going to keep him, we naturally noticed him more. His two blue brothers had meanwhile already decided on their careers. They were going to be all-in wrestlers. They were so alike, those two, even we couldn't tell them apart until Solomon bit Sugieh's tail one day and in a fit of pique she decided he wasn't her favourite kitten any more and chewed the whiskers off one of them instead; and they were quite inseparable. Theirs was a peculiar sort of affection, however, as you might expect with a mother like Sugieh. When you came across them they were never sitting lovingly
  It was a cotoneaster horizontalis , it reached quite three feet up the coalhouse wall, and Solomon solemnly sitting on the top of it trying to look as if he had conquered Everest was absolutely heart-rending. Even the other kittens felt sorry for him. One day when Sugieh issued her clarion call to come and be pretty on the gate they all went up the cotoneaster with Solomon instead. Unfortunately Solomon wasn't expecting them and in the heat of the moment he fell off and sprained his paw. Whatever happened, he just couldn't win.
  The one thing in which he did surpass the other kittens â other than having the biggest feet and the largest appetite â was his voice. Being Siamese, of course, they all had enormous voices. Even the she-kitten, who was much quieter than her brothers and given to periods of silent contemplation on top of the curtain rail, occasionally startled visitors by emitting a cracked soprano 'Waaaaah' from ceiling level when struck by some particularly profound thought.
  Solomon, however, even as a kitten, had a voice only to be compared with a bullfrog. And he never stopped talking. We used to hear him sometimes talking in the middle of the night. When we went in to see what was wrong â we never ignored noises in the night since the time we found Blondin hanging behind a door, trying to suffocate himself in the sleeve-lining of a coat â there, invariably, were the other three kittens snoring away peacefully like little white angels, Sugieh lying on her side with one eye open, obviously wishing him to the devil â and Solomon, bolt upright in the basket, talking to a spider on the wall.
  Solomon loved spiders. When he found one too old or infirm to get away he ate it noisily with his mouth open â a habit he had inherited from Sugieh â talking and chewing appreciatively at the same time. It took us quite a time to discover which kitten it was who gave an ecstatic 'Woohoohoo' at intervals while eating rabbit, like a small damp train going through the Rockies, but in the end that turned out to be Solomon too.
  He had a vocabulary all his own, which for our own good we quickly learned to understand. A black head appearing round the living room door when we had company and uttering a small but urgent 'Wooooh' meant he was sorry to intrude but the earth-box was dirty, and he wanted it changed in a hurry. Solomon didn't like dirty earth-boxes. A raucous 'Waaow' accompanied by banging noises from the kitchen as he tried valiantly to open the pantry door meant that he was hungry. Loud and prolonged wailing from somewhere up on the hillside behind the cottage meant that Solomon, after setting out with the others all bluff and bustle and Head of the Family, had once more got left behind and Âwanted to be rescued. The only time he couldn't talk was when he was feeding from Sugieh and if he opened his mouth he lost his place. Then, instead of talking, he waggled his big bat ears so frantically he looked as if he were about to take off.
  Solomon, of course, wasn't the only one with character. It was just that as he was the only Seal Point, and we were going to keep him, we naturally noticed him more. His two blue brothers had meanwhile already decided on their careers. They were going to be all-in wrestlers. They were so alike, those two, even we couldn't tell them apart until Solomon bit Sugieh's tail one day and in a fit of pique she decided he wasn't her favourite kitten any more and chewed the whiskers off one of them instead; and they were quite inseparable. Theirs was a peculiar sort of affection, however, as you might expect with a mother like Sugieh. When you came across them they were never sitting lovingly
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