A CALICO CAT?
There has been a lot of cat v. dog talk lately on the blogs I follow. Personally, I prefer people to both, despite their foibles and, sometimes, very nasty habits. This doesn't mean I haven't had several very close pet relationships. The longest was with Daisy, a tortoiseshell moggie who shared my life for 18 years. We could read each other's minds.
Here is her photo - see how she appears to be cleverly camouflaged against the blackened stone terrace houses of what Mr N and I now call Lessimportantshire (since Lady Thatcher's official biographer recently referred to her only being reviled in the "less important" parts of the country. The North, we presume.)
Daisy was a darling, but I've always fancied a Calico Cat. (I know it's shallow of me but the name is so folk arty. It goes with my style.) Two new cats have arrived in my neighbourhood and they both have the Calico look with patchwork blobs of different colours. My good friend J was sure that it was the long-haired puss who met the requirements...
...I thought this short-haired miss fitted the bill.
It turns out they both qualify - and I do know how easy it is to "adopt" a cat. You just feed her and she's yours for life - she knows only cupboard love. But I will resist, not just because I don't want to fall out with my neighbours, but also because I'm sure Mr N is more of a dog man. Some chaps find cats quite off-putting.
I will be content for now with this one, who sits by the landing window...
...and is actually made of calico.