This is my cat, Mister F.
Baby girl will argue that he is her cat and he loves her more, but lets face it, if it weren’t for me being a cat person…
We wouldn’t even have a cat right now.
In the picture above, Mister F is being Tarzan, balancing the fence and weaving between the giant leaves of our neighbours fig tree.
He is hilariously clumsy. Moments before I snapped this photo he almost slipped off the fence – like, you are a cat. If you can’t balance on a fence, no one can!
I love his awkwardness. Amazingly what I am loving about him lately is his coat… rather, the cuddly coat.
Hubbie calls it his leather jacket. So black and shiny and smooth. He’s a medium hair so a fair bit of fur still finds its way wafting through our home… which I can’t stand, since I’m the one that cleans it.
But he’s sooo soft. Like today when he wandered into a room he wasn’t meant to go into, I scooped him up flat like a pancake (the way I used to do with my old cat) and hugged him against my chest as I carried him downstairs.
And Mister F? He was totally cool about being a pancake. He looked around curiously as I held him close to me in a hug, and didn’t try to escape even once.
He lets us get away with almost anything… don’t feel sorry for him though… He has a butcher as an owner.
Sardines for dinner? His favourite ❤😻