A dog’s life….. or maybe a cat’s?



It’s not a home without fur-kids.

The Queen



Welcome to the family, the four legged type that is or in this case only three.  Meet Archie, our three legged Springer cross.  Hit by a car when she was only six months old and now an old girl she really is an inspirational member of the family.  Nowadays happy to have an amble on the green outside our home or lay in the Autumn sun on the decking.



If Archie is the old girl then this handsome chap is the old man of our fur-kids.  Chutney – or chut to his friends – is  14 and the only one that demands a certain amount of respect, but rarely gets it.  He reminds me of myself a lot, some aching bones, eyesight not what it was and occasionally a little grumpy _ or so I’ve been told.  Another sun worshipper like Archie, content with the easy life.  Gone are his days of hunting leaving that to his younger proteges.


_20180606_180640.JPG Meet Marley, an adopted Pomeranian from up country.  His owner – very sensibly – realised that he had no quality time and needed more love and attention.  Having small dog syndrome though, there’s not enough love in this world for him.  Loyal though and would do more damage to an intruder than any Rottweiler or Alsatian.  I’ll admit that I’ve always had bigger dogs and have always said that if you’re going to have a dog you have a dog, not a long haired rat.  This long haired rat though has grown on me and will often sit down by my feet while I’m chilling outside or writing.  Yeah, kinda love him now.


_20180906_115830.JPG Tippy toes –  Tippy to his friends – a Bengal cross.  My step-daughter’s cat but secretly, my boy. The only one that gives Chut the respect he deserves.  Whether that’s because he knows he’ll be the one to take over rule of the feline clan one day or because the ‘boys’ need to stick together in a house dominated by females.  Guess that could be why we are close too.  The Bengal in him comes out in his stalking and play fighting with the other felines and loves cardboard boxes.  Even trying to squeeze himself inside a cereal box usually failing miserably.   As I write this he jumps up on my lap and flops himself down on me, definitely my boy!



This is the youngest of the fur-kids, Moomin.  I know, Moomins  are white but in a multi -cultural world, why not!  Moomin was also an affectionate name of my grand-daughter when she was yo_20180906_144737.JPGunger, Millie Moomin.  Back to this feline delinquent.  Daughter of Queenie she is the wild child.  Stalker and hunter gatherer of all the felines.  Her father, a delinquent himself from a few doors down.  Find it hard to warm to her like I do the others but just occasionally she’ll cuddle up as if giving me permission to love her.  To be fair she doesn’t hassle me for food like the others do, she knows the time and place to be when dinner is served.  An independent spirit who will look good sat outside any one’s house on All Hallow’s Eve.



Last but not least, Queenie – and doesn’t she just know it.  A silvery/grey Maine Coon who will only drinDSC_2254.JPGk running water and actually cry and literally show you the way to the bathroom for you to turn the tap on.  Bought originally as a therapy cat for my wife she is a proper little madam and a little floosy. Pregnant before we had time to have her neutered and then, being so young I guess, struggled to feed and nurture her young.  A little bit of coaxing helped her but I think it put her off for life – or would have done if we hadn’t had her neutered.  Oh, and she is the smelliest of all the fur-kids.  Bottom burps that could strip paint.  Don’t be fooled by those angel eyes on her.  In all seriousness she’s a little darling really.


For someone who, when I first met my wife was a dog NOT a cat lover, I think I have adapted very well to the feline invasion over the past three years.  Am I a cat lover now?  No, always a dog lover first and foremost but I have softened in my approach to the feline species.  It probably helps that I have that bond with Tippy,  the similarities I have with the old man Chut and the fact that I am the one that primarily feeds them all that has swayed me a little.  I have to admit that coming home and being greeted by them is pretty heart warming, even if it is tea time for them all!


Goodbye to you from your Hoobaddyhoo.









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