Cathouse

Don't get too excited.

This is not the local brothel viewed from above but the mossy roof of the cat kennel (for want of a better word) that T built for our cat Trouble who died last year, age 17. Although he was an outdoor cat he never slept in it, preferring his lair in the cellar instead. However, he often sheltered here from the rain. We remain catless as our dog Mia believes she's the centre of the universe and tends to look upon all cats as a source of protein. Maybe one day, when she's older and more cat-tolerant and pigs take to the air, we can think of having a cat again.

Thank you, Blipfoto, for my daily feline fix.



Another backblip I'm afraid; was too forgetful to post it on Thursday.