F’fucks sake, I just looked at a diary and realised Neil will be 10 this christmas.
Seems old, but I guess 20 years to go until he’s the worlds oldest cat is another way to think.
Look at him, that’s one fuckin’ nice kitty right there.
Neil isn’t a huge fan of snow.
It renders his main hunting asset useless, the asset which usually helps put him on top of the list of New Zealand’s Most Deadly Predator.
His camouflaged coat.
The creation of a hundred and more generations of natural selection since his ancestor hopped a ship mid-1800’s (?), to now perfectly match the farmed yet bushy environment around here.
Apart from on snow days!
Woke up today thinking “you’re no kitty!”
Neil is boycotting the house whilst I have this guest.
My personal crochet blanket is the one in the background, in the shades of blue.
Still as good as new, c.45 years old.
Neil’s new favourite place in the world is atop another general family blanket of the same vintage.
Which is itself atop Michael and KITT, of course.
Terry’s Bowl, with Cat.
And an Anglepoise.
I call it “New Year Neil”.
The blue is just in the photo from taking it low-light with no flash, it did come up a bit when tweaking the blacks to make the ink more inky.