This is Indie, a two-year-old tortoiseshell/tabby moggy:
She says she might be willing to lodge with us for the next few years. There’s been no agreement on rent yet; we did mention it, but she suggested that “with claws like mine, who knows what will end up rent?” We laughed nervously and moved into another room.
After only a few days, the house is very much as though she’s been here forever. There’s a box of sand and wood pellets under the kitchen table, a blanket from the rescue centre by my few remaining single malts, and only slightly more hair around the place than I usually shed myself. Indie has also established herself as by far the most relaxed and chilled-out member of the household.
It’s not clear yet what the future will bring for our happy home, but one thing’s for sure: if we’re ever down on our luck, Indie will be able to come to the rescue with her famous impersonations of foodstuffs:
This is her truckle of cheese. If you’re not satisfied by that, you’re welcome to your money back. Just ask Indie for it on your way out. You… you clot easily, right? Oh, no reason.
Joking aside, we are already starting to fall in love with the most sociable and genial cat we’ve ever come across. Now, if only we would never have to let her out of the house; if only we were both slightly less allergic; if only her clawpricks didn’t bring me out in occasional weals….