A Tail to be told

So here is Charlie or rather Charlie’s tail.

He came to me via the ether of the internet from the lovely Jane Smith of How Publishing Really Works who knew of Charlie from her friend Jo who couldn’t have him anymore because her new home didn’t allow furry creatures and who kindly had her brother and girlfriend drive Charlie for two hours in the rain to me before going on further to Clacton - for a hopeful seaside trip.

Charlie arrived at 10.40 am, 20 March 2010.

Phew.

I forget how young an 8 year old cat can be. I forget how agile a cat can be. I forget how curious and how full of curiosity a cat can be. I am reminded on an hourly basis how his mind is zipping through feline thoughts at a zillion times per second – wanting to touch this, smell that jump here, squeeze through that gap - any gap.

What’s behind that door? Boxes of clutter I can’t seem to part with, Charlie!

What’s that on the windowsill? My sister’s floral arrangement she gave me for Christmas. I think the flowers are all dried up now…

And who is that mad woman waving outside at me? It’s the lovely Sue, Charlie! She adores kitty cats and doggy dogs.



What’s that noise? It’s the new next door neighbours – the young couple having a errr.. very good time! You’ll soon get used to it, Charlie!

At 4.30 am he woke me up by leaning with his furry paws up on the edge of my duvet and going: “purr-eow”.

So I took Mr McDoonagoogle and we both ran along the hallway with Charlie chasing after us.


I shall leave Mr McDoonagoogle for another day.