At around 7 p.m. on May 3, 2001, I was taking my dog, Holly, she's part Rottweiller, part dog (sorry, I mean Shepherd), for her evening constitutional along local lane.

We were almost home, not 50 yards from bridge at end of my driveway, when we heard a squeak coming from undergrowth. It's not unusual for lizards to squeak. Sometimes, when I whistle cats, lizards answer me back. The first time, I nearly jumped out of my skin!

"Who's there?"

The squeak resounded again. This time, however, both dog and I cocked an ear each and glanced at each other askance. Now, I have no idea what she was thinking, but I suspect, much same as me as she dragged me off in direction of sound. "That ain't no lizard!"

Down ditch and up bank, we caught our first glimpse of owner of voice. A contender for title of World's Smallest Kitten and, we were just in time to see it scurry back up to huddle with two better qualified entrants.

All alone, middle of nowhere. Oh bother! Now what do we do?

Well, to cut a long story short, I decided they were far too young to be out on their own and went and collected them. I took a cardboard box and if it had been only a shoe box, so small they were, I could have lost all three of them in it.

Brought box home and, looking at comparative sizes of half ounce furballs to 55 lb. muscle-bound mutt, decided box should go up on table, out of reach.

Wrong answer!

Holly paced floor of hallway, back and forth by side of table like an expectant father waiting for news of birth. And she howled and she whined and she cried.

(Maybe because there were no cigars in house?)

When I could stand no more, I got box down, crouching close to see what she would do. Now, bear in mind that one of these little things had already tried to bite end off my finger - it was a nasty nip for one that size. And they came fitted with sharp grappling irons on each tiny hoof.

He set out early before sunrise so that he could do his work before heat of day became too much. Very soon he was standing by side of river. He knelt down and cupped flowing water into his hands.

It felt great. So refreshing, cool and alive as it flowed through his outstretched hands. He drank some of revitalizing waters before filling two large urns with this clear, fresh water.

Holding one urn to his chest with each hand, Tori started long walk back to distant camp. Even though sun was now rising he could still not even make out outline of tents. They were there somewhere on other side of these fields, and across wooded valley.

He walked on, taking care to stay clear of high grass that tried to brush against him as he made his way along path through field. He also took care to keep his balance as he walked along dirt track otherwise he would spill water all along his route.

Tori walked quickly and before long, even before he noticed, he was on outskirts of camp. The sun was a golden orange as he stopped to rest. He put urns down on ground and at that moment Kuma, old wiseman of village, walked out to greet him.

Kuma had a smile on his old face as he looked down at dew drenched trousers worn by Tori. He giggled as he waved his walking stick in air and explained to confused Tori why he was laughing so hard.