Do you know, for my birthday my lovely friend Emma gave me a jar filled with pieces of paper telling me to “delve into that” whenever I couldn’t think of anything to write about. That jar has sat on my shelf for nearly four months and I haven’t yet written about any of the topics she has suggested so I decided to do something about that today. I’m going to make this a weekly thing until the jar is empty, then I’ll invite questions from my loyal fanbase

Today’s topic: Cats or dogs?

Let me tell you, friends. I am not blessed with a Dr Dolittle streak. When I was a kid, my parents were 100% against my siblings and I having pets. I had a dog for two weeks until I went back to boarding school after the holidays and my Mum took her to the Cat & Dog home, and cats were out of the question because my Mum hates them. So of course the first thing I did when I got my own place was bought a cat.

We had Sparky for maybe three weeks when he jumped out of my (3rd floor!) window in pursuit of a passing pigeon. Somehow he survived but spent the next two weeks in the vets, recovering before coming home where he lived with us for two years. Alas, when Bob and I began courting Sparky decided to voice his disapproval by attempting to destroy the house and so he went to live with our best man Barry. He still lives there, periodically being affectionate but more often finding new and exciting ways to upset Barry!

Soon after Bob and I moved in together, our friend Lizzie decided to move to Bristol and we offered to take her cat. Tuna moved in and lived with us until about a year ago when she shacked up with a neighbour. Sadly, Tuna was knocked over and killed earlier this year.

For Findlay’s 5th birthday, all he asked for was a kitten. Constantly. For maybe six months? I was quite excited by the prospect although worried about how Tuna would take it, but eventually decided that the company aspect would be nice and so took up the offer of a kitten from a friend of a friend. Went to pick up the kitten and accidentally came home with two – Kipper and Sausage. They lived with us until Christmas last year when we went to London for the weekend and they moved in with the neighbour. I’m beginning to feel a little self-conscious here. This is Sausage:

Turns out that Kipper was a little promiscuous, and so our first litter of kittens arrived two weeks before Erica was born. Here’s Kipper and her babies:

In September, I realised how much I’d missed being without a cat for nearly nine months. After a chat with our neighbour, she agreed that Sausage and Kipper were really her family’s cats now and I visited our local SSPCA shelter with Nairn. I was only going to look! That night, we came home with Sia…:

… who had five kittens on Erica’s birthday. Sadly two of the kittens didn’t make it, which left us with two gingers and a black kitten. One of the ginger kittens has gone to Edinburgh to live with Kate and the black one has gone to live with Kate’s colleague which leaves us with Horatio:

We also rescued a litter of kittens in January and managed to rehome four out of the six which left us with Yola…:

… who we haven’t seen since the week after Greer was born, and his brother Fitz who I don’t have a photo of. So we now have four cats – Sia and Horatio who live inside, Fitz who pops by for food every other day and Yola who we suspect has found someone to feed him.

So in answer to the question? Well, I’d say it has to be cats

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