Seven months ago, I bought a tabby kitten from the SPCA.
Upon entering the kitten-filled room, a crescendo of meows and the pungent fume of cat pee fused.
In a moment of fantastic delirium, my visit turned into a purchase. I left with Moss.
He's had his shots, catnip mice litter my floor, he even has a name tag.
However, as Christmas fast approached, it dawned on me that the newest member of my family might well be homeless over the festive period.
This blackbird-catching tom is new to Wanaka and I am heading away for Christmas.
He is no poster boy of the cat community.
While he travels light, with a case of herpes which makes him sneeze when stressed, and a penchant for swiping at unsuspecting ankles, I would not call him the dream house guest.
I decided to book him into a cattery.
There are 10 catteries in Central Otago.
Some offer lakeside views, others late checkouts and ‘‘boutique experiences''.
Wanaka Boarding Kennels and Cattery owner Mary Chaffey tells me her cattery became fully booked for Christmas about three weeks ago.
‘‘They are just like motels, or any sort of human accommodation over the Christmas period,'' she said.
In what should have been a very obvious sign of the challenge ahead of me, Mary tells me people from Christchurch started booking their pets into the boarding kennels in July.
I try a Queenstown cattery.
Ladies Mile Pet Lodge and Pet Supplies owner Keri Lemaire-Sicre tells me most of her clients book their cats in for Christmas a year in advance.
‘‘I look at it like this; If you are looking for a place for your pet to stay, it would be like looking for a place for your child to go to daycare. So what you do is you look in advance.''
I feel a pang of parental guilt.
The next eight phone calls are a mixture of sympathy, concern, irritation and bemusement.
The cat-caring experts can hear the inexperience in my voice.
Will Moss have to be left to fend for himself?
Forget the ham. Tui, fantail and starling will be the cat's Christmas dinner.
A source tips me off about a black market cattery.
I ask the mystery voice at the end of the line if they run a cattery.
‘‘You're not from the council are you?''
This underground cattery is also fully booked.
Feeling like Oliver Twist approaching his master to plead for some more slop I try/beg a Dunedin cattery.
They can accommodate Moss for Christmas Eve, and Christmas night.
He is on a waiting list for another three nights' shelter.
I turn to the cat. He's doing that smug, cross-legged, squinted-eye manoeuvre that only cats do.
A four-hour drive in a cat cage awaits him.
