Muran (aka this sofa’s mine!)

What do you want? Stop bugging me
Go away! I'm bored of this now...
You want me to do what? I look like the young Liz Taylor in Cleopetra.
OK. I'll pose for you. It'll cost you though. Right, I'm off... Have your people call my people.

We’re cat-sitting for a week while Muran’s parents take a short holiday. I think she secretly likes coming here because we’re such suckers; all she has to do is roll over, and we fight to scratch her belly or brush her fur. Such a princess! She’s a placcid wee cat, but is never really up for doing very much. On her first visit as a kitten, she hid under the bed for days, only emerging to go to the toilet or eat her favourite cat biscuits. (That may have had something to do with her brother, smelly Onion, being alpha-cat.) Oh how things have changed! She now lays claim to the aubergine sofa the minute she arrives. It doesn’t matter which room it’s been moved to, she’ll find it and sit herself down, waiting for us to serve her hand and foot.

1800h update: The wee angel had been cat-napping all afternoon, but perked up the minute she heard the door. She’s now prowling, on the lookout for some attention and tuna.


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