I’ve missed my morning walks over the past few months, since I developed a problem with my foot. We live in a fairly well populated residential area that has lots of parklands, greens, play areas … and cats. During the time when I was walking regularly I got to know quite a lot of the local cats (I think it’s fair to say we have more than our fair share of felines in the neighbourhood), and I’d know which ones were up for a stroke, which ones would welcome me in the hope that I might have a key to their house to let them in, and which ones would scurry off into the bushes. This first one has the most beautiful markings I have ever seen. And blue eyes…
They do say that ginger-haired people have fiery tempers. This cat certainly didn’t look at all pleased to be captured on camera. It’s a little blurry, I think I took it right at the moment of flight back into his own garden.
The first cat we ever had, in fact it was already in residence before I was born, was a tabby called Domby, named after a Dickensian character. This tabby knows how to strike a pose:
I read recently that if you construct a circle on the floor, from anything – rope, hose, plastic etc, a cat will feel the need to sit in the centre of it. I suppose a manhole cover suffices just as well.