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The long-awaited new addition to our family has finally arrived - but before anyone gets the wrong idea I should add that our household now resounds to the patter of tiny paws - not feet.

Middle Daughter's belated Birthday present, a tiny bundle of ginger kitten, was recently pronounced old enough to be separated from his mum and join in the fun at Castle Codman.

He arrived in our trusty cat basket looking every inch the little-boy-lost. Well, I suppose it is a bit of a blow to lose your mum and your brother and sister in one afternoon.

We sat him, still in the basket, in the middle of the floor and tried to introduce him to his new cat family members - Big Tom and Little Heidi. Introductions rarely go as anticipated and these were no exception.

We'd expected Big Tom to ignore him as too tiny and insignificant to worry about, but we'd hoped that Heidi, our little white and tabby She cat, might mother him a bit.

No such luck. After watching him intently for a few minutes she stalked up to the basket, swore disgracefully in cat language, spat for good measure, and high-tailed out of the room.

Our ginger orphan retreated to cower at the back of his basket, but got over his first disappointment when Big Tom approached for a closer look. Things began well with a good-natured sniff and nose rub. Perhaps Tom would like the role of Foster Dad?

Then the kitten put up a tiny pin-cushion of a paw to play and Tom backed off hastily, growled low in his throat like a dog and asked to go out - presumably to the local Black Cat pub to moan about the new arrival.

It was a tough introduction to the Big Wide World for the kitten - life can be hard when you're fostered out at six weeks old. Luckily the human members of our family gave him a much warmer welcome.

That can be just as terrifying. "Monty" - previously named Fonzi and Elvis - was cuddled, stroked and played with to within an inch of exhaustion.

A couple of weeks later he is the spoilt darling of the house. Middle Daughter is besotted and allows him to live in her room, despite being woken up in the night for cuddles.

Tiny tyrant has the looks of a chocolate box kitten - but the temperament of a tiger. Fingers are there to be chewed and scratched, furniture to be climbed over and heads to be sat on.

Toilet rolls get the 'puppy advert' unravel treatment and a piddle in the wrong box gave Middle Daughter the perfect new "no homework" excuse - 'the kitten peed on it

Although Monty is the adored baby of the humans in the household, he has not managed to make any progress where the other cats are concerned. Big Tom, our huge Boss cat, has mellowed slightly with age - time was we spent most weeks at the vet's paying a fortune to have his fighting wounds stitched.

Today, middle age and a testosterone-busting operation have quietened him down a bit, but he still struts around like the King of the Castle. Only now he finds himself in a new position - a no win situation with Monty - the new Young Pretender.

He tries to ignore him most of the time, but under no circumstances will he tolerate his tail being pounced on and nipped. But when he retaliates by giving the young upstart a cuff around the ear which sends him sprawling head over heels across the carpet, he is met with cries of "Oh Tom, you bad bully, he's only a baby."

Puzzled and disgusted he retreats behind the sofa and hides his tail.

Little Heidi's mothering instincts show no sight of surfacing, her language is dreadful (I'm certain - I do speak a little catese) and she spends most days sulking and hiding under Eldest Daughter's bed.

The new Pecking Order still has to be established and with the half-term holiday long gone I've inherited the unwelcome role of referee. I'll just go and find that whistle ......and perhaps a bucket of water and some gardening gloves might come in handy.

And while I'm about it I'd better cancel those new curtains, at least for a few months.

Thank goodness babies - even the feline variety - grown up eventually!

COPYRIGHT SALLY CODMAN 2004 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED