Accounting for a Cat (1)

We adopted Little on June 6th 1996 (I just checked the paperwork). She was a year old, but had been at the Blue Cross for six months (we were told: they were trying very hard to "sell" Big, but especially Little, to us). So she could have been not much more than one up to nearly two and a half. She was at the very least 20 when she died.

A pretty good innings.

There's no accounting for cats

Mr Socks has spent the last few weeks looking up longingly at my lap, which was almost inevitably occupied by Little. I've made sure he's got his share of my attention, when Little decamped to M or Looby Loo.

Now, of course, he's avoiding me and Mr Oswald--the non-lap cat--has happily curled up on me.