We have a new creature in the home. He came to us via the Blue Cross Pet Adoption Scheme, is fiendishly difficult to photograph and wants me to stroke him rather than write this post. Yes; we have acquired a cat. I promise not to fill this blog with cute photos of him, but a few introductory photos seemed in order. Please forgive the terrible quality of the pictures, but when Joey isn’t deviously working out how to climb into the kitchen sink or hop onto some forbidden surface, he is usually on some secret, feline stealth mission that involves rapid prowling. The few times I’ve caught him sitting still, the swaying camera-strap has caught his attention and meant that the photography mission had to be hastily aborted because of incoming claws.

Joey’s favourite things are:

Opening doors. He fully comprehends the function and facility of doors and will not tolerate any of them being closed. If we try to close a door, he immediately starts mewling pitifully outside of it.

Stirring up trouble between me and Mark. Last night’s sofa conversation went largely like this:

‘Look he’s sitting beside me now.’
‘Yes but he let me stroke his tummy.’ etc.

Hassling us when we are in the bathroom. He enjoys the prospect of an unsuspecting person sat upon the toilet as an open invitation to hassle said person, sit in their lap, brush himself brazenly on their ankles etc.

Playing with The Wool. I have discovered that all dangling ends of yarn must be kept away from Joey. The sight of dangling ends of wool precipitates a psychotic glazing over of his normally lovely eyes and a frenzy of grabbing.

Everything I have heard about how much cats love to sleep and keep themselves to themselves, is, in the case of this beast at least, complete bollocks. He appears to need no sleep at all and to be highly interested in all human doings and activities. These personality traits are somehow very ‘us.’

We love him.