Over a decade ago we visited a Cambridgeshire farm to buy a cat. The only one left was the runt of the litter, smelly and mucky and living in a pig sty. I'd never owned a cat, we're dog people, but work lives meant if we wanted to have a substitute child, I mean pet, then a cat was the better option. In truth I was actually allergic to cats and the condition of getting one was that it must be short haired. But how could we leave her? She's timid and slightly feral. And we love her. On the mend after her corneal ulcer she's ruling the roost once more and that's fine with me. She's my other baby. With less attitude (but only just).
* a friend nicknamed her Lady Perdita of Huntingdon when we lived there as she's incredibly haughty.
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