I knew it – I knew there were talented women out there with tastes as exquisitely bred as my own. I’ve started following a couple of great blogs, and you guessed it: the writers love kittehs and books!
In other news, I am shocked and delighted. Perhaps my adoration of our feathered friends is not quite as deviant as I thought, as many of you have stepped with darting eyes from the dark and agreed! In fact, I am jealous because you all have/had chickens and I WANT one.
I also desperately, desperately want one of the stray kittens that live down by One Red Dog on the Wellington waterfront. I went there for dinner with my flatmates tonight and there were four of them, gorgeous tiny little things, maybe six months old, all in varying shades of black and white. The wind was up and they’d lost all sense of dignity, tearing round like lunatics after bits of paper and generally creating longings with their kitteh crazeh
I spent several minutes after dinner hunkered on the cold concrete using my best wheedling tones, but they were not the slightest bit interested in me. They knew best – if any of them had come close I’dve snaffled them up and taken them home.
Also, and excuse my language, but check the fuck out of this. That’s what I call a real cat fight. (And yes, again, I want one. Do I want everything? Uh, yes).