Hey, so we have six cats. If you ever wondered what they all look like, Emma actually got all six of them to sit still and look in roughly the right direction for #internationalcatday. Four of the six were rescues, living feral, when we took them in. The other two were a friend’s cats we took in when she had to move and couldn’t keep them. Ginger, O’Reilly and Scarlett are about 17. Nick is under five, we think, and Sam and Winter are brothers born approximately September/October 2016. Ginger is deaf, Scarlett is blind, and O’Reilly is and always has been chronically clumsy. Nick could do with losing a bunch of weight, Winter probably could too, but right now, they’re enjoying food security for the first time ever, so, y’know. Also, Mum keeps overfeeding them despite us trying to explain to her what portion sizes should be, and she’s the one up at 5am, so we can’t intervene when she dumps a whole can in their bowls.
Tag: sam
Because they didn’t feature in my post the other day…
In the background is Nick. Mother, fluffball, waddler, Princess of Knives, singer of songs about her teaser toys. She has claimed my blanket.
In the foreground is Sam, who has settled against my butt to purr after a strenuous ten mintues gently gnawing and clawing my ankles. He’s always been more affectionate than his brother, but he does like to bite when he’s happy. It probably wouldn’t even hurt if I had fur. Alas, my ankles are unprotected and nommable.
We never pressure the cats to spend time with us. Nick is mostly with us, choosing a prime place on the back of a chair or on an unguarded lap blanket, but Sam has spent most of this winter sprawled on the arm chair on the back deck. He’ll occasionally come and take a turn around the room like an Austenian heroine, but otherwise, just accepts pats and food with happy purrs. Tonight, he felt like company, so I thought I’d document that Winter isn’t alone in wanting to be near us under his own terms.
knitting in the dark 