They suggested it so long ago, that I cannot remember who it was, but I'm going to admit now that I've avoided writing it because I don't want to bug dog people, because I know that dog people really love their dogs.
|My Mum and her dog c1971|
I grew up with dogs and cats. To start with we had Horace. I say we, but Horace was Mum's dog. He was a good, happy dog, who got lots of walks, until I was born. Then he was a very unhappy dog.
I am told he used to pee all around my bedroom while I was in my cot. When I was older, he would obey none of my orders, and would not leave the house unless my Mum came too.
I didn't dislike Horace, but I didn't like him.
After Horace, my Dad (who doesn't like pets) must have refused another dog. We did have a guinea pig and a rabbit, but that didn't work out so well, so we left it at that.
When my Mum remarried we gained some cats. Her new husband had cats! Fripp (for Robert Fripp), and Joe (Cocker). Joe was a manky tom cat who set to work impregnating the neighbourhood, but Fripp was neutered, and black, and fairly tolerant. I loved that cat.
Mum got a new dog: Billy, half alsatian and half mad, Billy was a big slobbery mess of a dog who irritated the heck out of me, and never got enough walks. I was relieved when we had to let him go.
|Britney, my sister's cat|
As for me, I moved in with my friend Annabel, and her collection of lovely cats. I befriended her new kitten Cairo, and loved the way she would parade along the back of the sofa, until she fell off.
I didn't get a cat of my own until we moved to Largs. We weren't settled enough in most of the places we've stayed, and they wouldn't let us have one in Suffolk (because of the small children), so I wasn't expecting to get one here, but we moved in in January, called the Cats Protection League in February, and a week later, we had a cat.
He is the best cat ever.
He is an enormous ginger cat who thinks he is a lot tougher than he is, steals whatever food and drink he can find, and loves to be with the family.
He has no discernible purr, but he can meow if he suspects it is within two hours of feeding time.
He doesn't sit on laps, but enjoys resting on green cushions or blankets. If you make the mistake of using a green cushion yourself he will stare at you disdainfully until you relinquish it.
He's called Katsuma, and he is a daily reminder that cats domesticated themselves. They may not have a dog's IQ, but they're the kind of creature I'd rather live with.
What about you? Dog person or cat lover?
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