Monday, November 2, 2009


Pussy cats .... we've had a few.

When I was little, we tried getting a dog. I was so excited. I had gone around a wishing tea in the botanical gardens in Sydney quite a few times wishing desperately for a dog. And one day - after we'd moved to Canberra - after Sunday School - I think - Dino the black cocker spaniel was waiting for me at home.

Well - Dino didn't like me. And I didn't like Dino because he frightened me. So Dino went away.

Not long after my father found a kitten in the bush. He was black so we called him Sooty. It's awful, I know, but I can't remember what happened to Sooty.

Then somehow we ended up with three cats - Tilly, a grey Persian; Yum Yum, another black cat and Kit.

This photo is of Kit. We "inherited" him from my Gran. He lived with her for a long time and had all the neighbours fooled. He used to sit on her very grand letter box (a big brick and concrete job from memory) out the front and beg for food. He got fatter and fatter and then he came to live with us.

Not one of our cats liked each other. Every time they met each other in the hallway you would swear it was the first time they had ever seen each other - slinking and spitting furiously, they would never give an inch.

We loved them all and I miss them very much.

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