Some years ago, on a summer's eve, Wendy and I were sitting in our living room when a visitor walked in ... a big, handsome kitten.
He was a little tentative, but looking for love ... and, I imagine something to eat. He had obviously been well-cared for as a child, so what was he doing wandering the fields of Gerolstein? He must belong to someone ...
But nobody had lost a cat ...
We couldn't keep him. Our two dowagers were past the age of playing tag. Minnie's arthritis means she doesn't scamper up trees any more. She just wants to be left in peace. And leaving the ageing aunties in peace was not on this young feller's agenda. No, Socks would have to be found a home.
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| Minnie: Grands Duchess of Gerolstein |
Yes, we'd committed the fatal error. We'd given him a name.
He found a home. He lives in Wendy's house. The girls live in mine. And they share the 35 acres. When Wendy goes out in the morning to clean the paddocks, Socks goes to supervise. Minnie and ChiQi are still snoozing. When 10am strikes the girls are let out, while Socks retires to his personal private quarters ... It's a cat's life.
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