My loveur, AKA Kooky the cat, woke me up at 6.45am, screaming to be fed. However, he allowed me to stroke him for about ten minutes before rushing noisily to the kitchen. Once there, he shot out of the catflap while I lovingly prepared his beef-in-carrot-jelly breakfast. Meanwhile, I lovingly placed some clove-studded clementines on the radiators to pleasantly scent the air for him. Mmmm. Perhaps I should have used sardines instead. But there are limits. He then shot back into the kitchen, noisily devoured his food, and demanded another small tin of food, this time lamb in game jelly, before clawing the sofa a bit, and then settling for a post-prandial snooze.
Above is a typical pose - happily in the embrace of 'another woman'. Hmmm. Sometimes I think this Valentine's business is not all it's cracked up to be.
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