“Duchess,” called the Admiral. “What is it?” cried I. “This cat has gotten itself stuck behind Yvette’s drawer.”
Iam, our slightly chubby ginger tabby, was behind the drawer and too large to jump over. We had to pull him over. They are there all night, and Ian (the one who got himself stuck) insists on lying on me directly, as solidly he can. We get up and soon he’s there getting on my lap. If I get up, and go off, and come back, there he is, behind my chair. He is rude. When Caroline comes to the house, he looks at her, turns and runs from her softly urged “Who’s an orange cat,then?”
Clary, blithe tortoise with her tail held high, is all play, wants endlessly to play with us from under stools (meant to enable us to reach books on high shelves). She miaows because we have other things to do.
The delights as well as dangers of a cat’s life may be found in a superb book by Doris Lessing on my old Sylvia blog: Doris Lessing’s On Cats.
I need to find car sticker which says “my grandchildren have four paws each.”
Sylvia
Under the Sign of Sylvia II 