Not my cat
In honor of Charlotte’s return, we went to an open house at a cat sanctuary on Sunday. Okay, yes…we would have done anyway. But it seemed particularly appropriate just at present.
Not quite as posh as the Celia Hammond one, but I’m not sure the cats could tell the difference.
Amazing how many black and black-and-white cats were pining for adoption. It’s true in the States, it’s true here. People are weird.
We had an awesome time, bought lots of good things cheap and had a long drive across an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. (No, really, that’s a thing — it was an officially designated AONB).
This guy bites. The guy in the picture. I knew that, but I didn’t tell anybody. I just sat on a bench nearby and watched the fun.
One of those cats who strings you along happily for a while and then goes full psycho for a nanosecond. He didn’t seem to hurt anybody, so I could spectate with a clear conscience.
Who could have guessed a cat that looks like Hitler would be evil?
July 17, 2017 — 8:58 pm
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