Sunday, 8 November 2009

Good day, Sunshine.

This is my gorgeously scratchy and deliciously cranky cat Sonny. He would totally have your face off, but I love him entirely, and am thinking of him this weekend as the bangers and rockets go off all around me. Despite his violent and confrontational demeanour, Sonny is a secret softy - he hates fireworks and thunder, and hides in cramped, dark spaces for protection. I used to make him cosy, hidey-holes.

He'd lived with me since he was a tiny scrap, but he moved to Skipton a couple of years ago to live with his dad. It was for the best, as he was constantly bullied by the mean ferals that live nearby. I still think of him as partly mine, though. I texted Sonny's dad (he's a human dad, not a cat dad) to see how he was coping with the fireworks, and he said that he'd gone missing somewhere in the house. Poor Sunshine. Lots of love to him, and to all of the other animals scared out of their tiny minds and furry coats by Bonfire Night.

Incidentally, this doesn't include my cousin's ultra-crazy Staffordshire Bull Terrier, who has been tricked into eating a diazepam laced Mars Bar and is probably having a dandy old time of it.



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