Friday, 24 June 2011
Cumin has a playmate. He arrived one evening, peeking through the French windows, spooking our big Tom cat who was dozing myopically with his nose against the glass.
The "boyfriend" is Tonkinese, very playful and gentle, and our little ginger biscuit loves him to bits. They are both very "slight" cats, but to hear them chasing each other around the deck, you'd think they were llamas wearing clogs.
A few times she has run into the house and he has almost followed her, but twitched nervously against the threshold, then darted away again. Here he is - we call him Charlie Chan. He deserves something more exotic, but I'm afraid the name has stuck.
I think she is telling tales about us. She is retrieving stale bits of bread I have thrown in the garden for the birds, which she leaves next to her food bowl. I can see the speech bubble over head as she whispers to him "They don't feed me you know - I'm reduced to eating birdfood"
But what worries me most is not her running off with the birdfood, but running of with a charming oriental!