Mr Merl

Let me introduce you to Merlin.

Merlin's my oldest cat, a huge hephalump of a grey-and-white tom. His Dad was a roving pedigree Siamese with a hareem spreading over a ten mile radius, and his Mum was an oft-harassed half blue persian farm cat.

The day I met Merlin, nearly fourteen years ago, I walked into a warm farm kitchen, and a litter of kittens scurried for cover behind a ratty armchair by the stove. Then one of those kittens, one with a white bib, nose, and cute little white socks, bravely tripped back out again, and sat on my foot. "Mine" he seemed to say.

Merlin answers to many names - Mr Merl, Uncle Merlin, Buncle Berlin (don't ask), and NO! Don't Spray The.... argh!!!

His antics have been many and varied - from climbing sunflowers to fighting mad toms, learning to lean into roundabouts to taming the electrician. In recent years he's gone about life radiating this level of low-grade annoyance at everything for being detrimental to his dignity.

Oh, and he's NEVER forgiven me for marrying Husband.

He likes chicken, turkey and tuna, soft blankets, warm rooms, and constant adoration commensurate with his status in life.