Meeting the neighbours

Today I was inexplicably tired and bitchy. I tried to keep out of the way of people, drank coffee and napped. For a change it was dry and bright and cold. I took advantage to the dry and spent some time in my garden. The garden is lovely, and quite rightly had been obviously loved by my landlady. Oddly this makes me really feel like an interloper. Gardens are such personal things, and there is do much left here of the garden she grew. My plants, sitting awkwardly in their temporary pots having been dismantled from their own habitat, sit amongst the 'indigenous' plants of the garden a little like the new kids at school, who joined half way through the year and are yet to find any allies in the playground. I keep them huddled close to the back doors where I can see them from the lounge, and plan for their new arrangement as they start to come into their own once the seasons warm.

So, wandering around the garden I hear an insistent meow. An incredibly friendly and affection seeking grey tabby tom cat was stalking me. We talked a while and explored the garden together. Then I discovered his 'thing'. Mr grey tabby seems to love feet. Every time I stopped to check out a plant, my toes got licked. When I went back to sit on the bench, me tabby joined me, twirled himself in an elaborate headstand around my ankles and chewed on my toes. I've known a lot of cats. I've known a lot of cats with a lot of oddities. But he is my first foot fetish feline.