Don’t ask us the date – we are scornful of such matters. But Jane has a new game, posting a photo of ourselves a while ago, with a story. Here we are – well, some of us. Catkin wasn’t here at the time. The story is that we were super-gorgeous then as well as now, and, as we remember, were given more dinners every day because we were “still growing”. What an idiotic idea! We need more dinners every day, so that we can continue to grow, getting bigger and lovelier each day. Except for Catkin, who is big enough already…..
Rachel: taken about 4 years ago, in our old house, where there were lots of stairs, perfect for youngsters to rampage freely.
This is not a scene of peace, love and sisterly sharing. It positively vibrates with tension and strife, in that curious gaze-avoiding way that cats have when disagreeing with one another.Millie is in the centre of the double cushion. Queen Lottie’s place, in fact. Millie refuses to move, despite menacing glares from Lottie. Eventually – possibly because I am watching, and Lottie knows I dislike fighting – Lottie yields, and gives Millie a bit of a seemingly-friendly wash. She settles down. But she isn’t happy. And neither is Millie. This small but intensely-felt conflict will resume in due course. And will be repeated on a daily basis. The hierarchy is never static.
I hate anything being left on my cushion. I know Millie gets up there when I’m not around. It’s MY cushion, I tell her, so get off, and please don’t leave your horrible toys on it either! I hate that squirrel. Sometimes Millie listens to me.
That’s better. MY cushion, just for ME.
(Rachel: I’m coming for that dreadful hairy cushion in a moment, with a sticky roller, Catkin. Be warned.)