Cats, cats, cats, cats, everybody loves cats!
I have always been a crazy cat lady!
My first cat was called Pinkie. She/he (I don't think I ever knew) was a slinky, black cat who I loved with a passion but sadly she never returned my affections. She would sit on top of our telly dangling her tail over the screen and scratch anyone who tried to budge her. Apparently she used to hide in our hanging indoor ferns (it was the seventies) and launch herself onto the top of unsuspecting visitors arriving at our semi. Poor Pinkie was hit by a car.
Later we had a succession of furry friends, Vanessa and Mog the most originally named cat. I was cat free for a couple of years during uni and overseas adventures. When I returned, Audrey, the RSPCA rescue tortoiseshell became my constant companion. She was far more reliable than some of the fellas I met during that time. Thank goodness I later met and married a man who was also mad about cats! When we returned from our honeymoon, Alfie joined our little family.
Audrey kept us company for a few more years before heading to that warm, sunny spot in the sky. It was impossible to remain a one cat family for long. Daisy, the world's most patient cat, fitted in nicely. She was 'happy' to dress up and join in the fun and games. Alfie was relieved to have a furry pal to take over the frocking up duties.
Still something was missing... what else could it be but a third cat! Violet has fitted in beautifully to our chaotic house. She's inherited some of Daisy's outfits and has happily taken over the dolly pram duties. My husband has told the girls and I that three cats is ENOUGH. I'm not sure. Watch this space.