... (as I was earlier)
Her name escapes me now, as we've had a few cats in our time, until we discovered that I am actually allergic to them and we decided we'd better not get anymore. The last one we had was the cutest little part-Siamese, part-street tabby that I brought home from Linton when I was the head there. He'd arrived in a basket and I swore I was just going to look at him, but as soon as I saw this tiny little thing spreadeageled against the sides of the basket and hanging on for dear life, I knew he would be coming home with me.
We called him Willow. This name didn't suit him in any way at all. He turned out to be completely psychopathic, would take your arm off if you tried to stroke him and was known by the vet in Rothbury as 'The Longfram Cat.' The only person who he ever got close to was Charles, who hated him on sight, but would fall asleep on the settee after a busy day at work and we would find that Willow was using him as a cushion without Charles being any the wiser!!
When we first got him, he was so tiny that we would compare him with the little stone doorstop pig that measures aout four inches long. James would be fascinated by his smallness and would get us to 'Put him next to the pig' to check his growth.
He soon outgrew the pig and became a ferocious, manic and huge tom who terrorised the neighbourhood, even after we'd had him neutered. We would hear all hell break loose somewhere in the village in the middle of the night and just knew it was Willow.
Anyway - I wasn't going to write about him. I was recalling th cat we had at Six Eagles, who after we'd blocked up the cat flap, decided to throw herself out of the bedroom window in a fit of pique, presumably forgetting that it was three stories up. I can remember sitting on the settee quietly watching TV (in our first floor sitting room) and seeing this fluffy flash whizz past the window at some considerable speed.
Going downstairs to investigate, we expected the worst, but discovered her giving herself a bit of a shake and then she calmly walked into the house and up the stairs as though nothing untoward had happened.
LILY & ROSE
Here are some photos of Lily & Rose. There are a few from the first time we saw them when they were just 4 weeks old. They would fit on your hand at this age and didn't look much like westies!
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I too had a cat called Willow. She's still alive and well but I despatched her to her true owner a year or so back. She was a rare animal. An affectionate killer but a wonderful pet. One never quite owns a cat though eh? They tend to allow you to share the house with them.
ReplyDeleteI like these stories........more please. It's your blog not mine. I did try to post a comment about the Vendee this afternoon but fouled it up and couldn't repeat the original memories for a second time....sort of lost their sheen. A lovely place though...if you get the beach timings right and don't camp next to the feckless parents of a 9 yr old Berkshire brat during a 40c + heatwave! Good wine too.