As some may be aware, but many not, Chester, my faithful writing assistant, mice catcher, and general pain in the neck, passed away some months ago.
Recently I was running a series based on his adventures, under the title of Past Conversations with my cat.
For those who have not had the chance to read about all of his exploits I will run the series again from Episode 1
These are the memories of our time together…
This is Chester. Hiding.
He is the proverbial ‘scaredy cat’.
He is in hiding, buried at the back of the shelving in our walk in robe, one of the few places he thinks the grand children don’t know about.
Think again, Chester!
He pays scant regard to the fact he moults hair all over our clothes.
Efforts to fill the hole have been met with stiff resistance, the ‘blockage’ finding its way to the floor.
A bit like the blankets he doesn’t like on his bed.
Chester is 16 years old. He has had a tumultuous relationship with my grand children, who, at first, wanted to terrorize him, and now, older and wiser, want to make friends with him.
Sorry, no can do. You had your chance.
He’s warming to the 12 year old. Perhaps because she is as tall as us, he is confused.
Her efforts to get him to sleep on the end of her bed have failed.
Perhaps we should switch beds, and I might win that battle after all.