I might as well talk about my cat, although it doesn't bode well that my second post is about him...I promise there is more to me than him.
Catty lived in Wood Lane in Headingley where our old flat was. Catty miaowed at our window one night and I opened the curtain to see him miaowing as if to say 'well let me in then!!!!' I fed him some Bernard Matthews Turkey Ham, and the rest is history!
Well, there's a bit more to it than that but I won't bore the non Catty fans with the full story. Essentially he is my cat and my husband Josh has grown to love him, I think he realised he had to get on board when he gave me an ultimatum - it's me or the cat - and I hesitated just a fraction too long. He was something of a legend in Headingley - Catty, not Josh, and as we lived in a student area, a lot of the residents had a lot of time on their hands and a lot of kebabs to feed Catty with. If you look up Eric Le Cat on Facebook, someone (it really wasn't us!) he even had his own profile on there.
So he moved with us to the new house and has a really tough lifestyle. He wakes up around 8am in the living room - he can't sleep upstairs with us as he likes sleeping on people's faces and tummies - I feed him, he goes outside for a wee, he comes back in fifteen minutes later, he sleeps until 5pm when Josh gets home, Josh feeds him, he goes outside for a wee, he miaows, plays with his scratching post, plays with his squeaky mouse, I get home, play with him and his ribbon, he sits on my lap getting strokes, then sleeps until 8am. I genuinely don't know how he does it all in one day.
Here's the lazy bugger: