I have a cat. She is mental. Her name is Charly after the Prodigy song, the white patch under her nose and the fact that she was the first kitten in a huge litter to bomb across the carpet in a tumbling wobbly type run. Back then we thought she was a boy. Then we picked her up and realised otherwise but the name stuck. Charlie as in Charlotte, rather than Victor. Did I mention she was mental ? She thinks she is a dog and would fetch small twigs if you threw them before she got old and lazy. She used to wait under the Kitchen table and cuff your ankle as you walked past. She also used to like the kids driving her around by dragging a cardboard box across the wooden floors. Or being windmilled in a bag. She would purr like mad and while I realise that does not always denote pleasure, she never jumped out, unless you left the room and then when you came back in she would jump back in the bag.Nowadays she mainly sleeps and yowls "Hello" at about 3am when she comes in. She used to have a sister who ran off/died ? with whoim she once dragged a blackbird through the cat flap.
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