I think sometimes you're just meant to have certain pets in your life.
I didn't set out to get pedigrees either. I just wanted a tabby tom. Alf and Harvey were supposed to be cross breeds but they were mistakes the breeder needed shot of sharpish so she lied. Well we're almost 100% sure that's what happened. I'd have taken them anyway though even had she been honest. I couldn't have walked away from Alfie once I'd clapped eyes on him. Fortunately I was able to cope with his health problems and got him insured without issue. Harvey is, and always was, the healthy one of the two.
They were gorgeous, Nellie. As ever Sam has been reclining on the settee, festooned by 4 cats while I was allowed the one that couldn't get a seat on top of him...
It's a great pity the right of free speech isn't based on the obligation to say something sensible.
One of Harry's favourite places - apart from boxes, obv! - was to curl up in the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. I have to shuffle down the bed and off the end to get out. Dark cat buried in dark clothes in the dark - it's a wonder he didn't get squished of a morning. I guess it's also a minor miracle that I still have all my toes!!
No pictures, but Brandy, a tortoiseshell rescue cat, curled like a Catherine wheel in an 8" bowl that was collecting drips from a leaking roof. She also made a nest halfway up a neighbour's hedge she used to regularly sleep in.
This is one of my favourite photos of Alf. I had put that box down for no more than five or ten minutes, planning to save it to use for storing something or other. By the time I came back he was in and it was bent seven ways til Sunday. No use to me and after an hour or so it gave up on Alf too. Wedged right in there! In a man's size 11 ruddy shoe box.