Monday, 29 March 2010


Ah, my little Freddie. I missed him so much when I was away.

He's recently taken to following Cro and me when we head off on our daily walks. This might sound cute, but it limits our range.

After the first half-mile he starts to moan. It's either last autumn's chestnut husks that are hurting his feet, or he's just plain tired. From then on, I either have to pick him up, or just turn around and head for home.

He loves joining us, but (I'm sorry to say) our daily walks are more leisurely if he's curled up somewhere, asleep!
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  1. Oh, lovely Freddie. I had a big, black male (cat) once, called Widdy, but Widdy wandered off, never to be seen again.

    I was advised to chop his nuts off to stop him, but (since the advice was given by a gay friend who was an equestrian), I never did.

    Is that what you did with Lord Magnon?

  2. I threaten him. Freddie's already been had his snip, and purrs in a high-pitched voice.

    Hello Tom, good to be in contact again.