Wednesday, 28 February 2007

More For The Cat Obsessives

Ok, I admit it... I'm very fond of cats. Just as well, since I am the feeder of my very own moggy (note that I am not so presumptious as to claim to be an "owner" !!)

Anyway, checking over my last photos of Sylvester, I was rather concerned that he was looking a little thin. And then I realised that I took the photos just after my return from Ampleforth...

Sylvester doesn't exactly starve himself when I'm away, and my next-door neighbour comes in to check on him twice a day (he's got her well-trained: she needs to stay with him in the kitchen while he eats his breakfast, or he refuses to eat, and then she actually sits with him for an hour in the evening after he's eaten dinner... oh, and he has dry munchies available all day) as well as keeping an eye on him if he goes into the garden.

Despite this, whenever I return from a short absence, Sylvester always looks thinner! Maybe he manages to hold his sides in as a form of emotional blackmail...

So here's another photo to prove that he's no lightweight...

UPDATE: Simon-Peter has posted a few more cats... I must have missed it under the penguins. Or, of course, I was so traumatised by the music that I couldn't see straight !! Anyway, I really enjoyed the following pic:

4 comments:

Simon-Peter said...

hello, I posted some new cats for you a couple of days ago. You'll have to scroll down now to find them.

Stephen Wikner said...

Goodness, I thought I spoiled my two but I can see I'm an amateur.

Mac McLernon said...

My next-door neighbour is the one who spoils Sylvester...

...I merely treat him in the manner to which he is accustomed (I dislike waking up with him sitting on my shoulder and biffing me on the nose because I haven't fed him yet!)

Stephen Wikner said...

Sylvester too. He and 'my' Harry should meet. On second thoughts, better not. One of that ilk is quite enough.

(PS in response to your enquiry about my apparent Lenten blogging abstinence, the answer is no. My time has been fully absorbed with writing what in a different context would be called a homily. In this context it rejoices under the name of 'address or meditation on the theme' of an interdenominational Women's World Day of Prayer service here in Ely. (As a mere male, I feel privileged to have been so invited although I do wonder at the criteria that were employed.) Being unaccustomed to such activity, it has taken me rather longer that it would (or indeed could) if it were a more regular part of my life.

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