It’s hard to explain quite why I love Fred so much.
No. Wait. It isn’t.
I love Fred so much because he is a great big softhead. (My Mum calls him a Dopehead by which she means the same thing but I don’t have the energy to go into why it’s not appropriate to call him that.)
His favourite thing in the world is his little pink brush. He’s obsessed with being brushed, he loves it so much that he will come and stare at me when I’m brushing my own hair, wanting to have his turn.
I always think that he’s a pretty small cat. But I think that might have been because the very first cat I knew was a giant black and white slug called Smudge. I guess that really he’s just average-sized. The other week when I was round at my Mum’s, Fred took up residence on knee, except there isn’t really room for him on my lap anymore so I put my legs up on the sofa and he got himself comfy. When I got up to go to the kitchen he just expanded to fit the space, so he looked a little something like this...
In fact I would even swear sometimes that he’s posing for me.