If a cat has 9 lives,

I’m not sure what Ginge’ is saying to 'Boots.

I wasn’t party to this conversation;

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Yeah . . . think I’ll keep her :cat:

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Lord Lurpak enjoying his customary slow morning.

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Giving the evil eye because it’s too cold to go out.

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Has that with our Lord Boots earlier. He’d been in for 24 hours… he normally asks to go out much before that! He wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about going out earlier! :smiling_face_with_sunglasses:

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The Ralfster does love his cozy sun cave.

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One of very few moments where he hasn’t been keeping warm by being on my lap.

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I’ll ask my two regular visitors. I don’t believe they are though. They certainly look after us. They recognise their Duty of Care towards their pet humans! :sweat_smile:

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Our man has the right idea. Sport mode engaged on approach! :sweat_smile:

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Beanbag :cross_mark:
Bed :cross_mark:
Underside of a lap tray :white_check_mark:

Cats are fucking weird :woozy_face:

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Is this a request?

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You just know if there was a ridiculously undersized cardboard box there it would be first choice :rofl:

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How many homes and people do you think Lord Boots has adopted? Can’t imagine he gets spoiled as much as he does at your gaff!

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He is quite cagey about this, however I think it is at least five residences now.

I know someone washed him and he often turns up smelling of perfume.

His original pet humans do visit him every now and then… they have to turn up in the garden outside… they think he chose to leave due to the arrival of a baby! :sweat_smile:

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Does he have a base residence he sleeps at or does he just treat you all like a hotel?

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I think it is a couple in a house nearby; he comes from that general direction- and that is definitely where he gets washed! :sweat_smile:

Cat strip club? :upside_down_face:

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:rofl::rofl::rofl:He is absolutely charming and whenever I get a woman visiting, he is all over them. That’s how I met him actually.

A rather attractive former neighbour called Angelika used to sit with him in the communal gardens.

I went to chat her up, and she introduced me to Boots!

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Who comment when he saunters in after an evening at yours, that he smells of Mont Blanc and humming George Benson tunes…

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