There’s no lifestyle comparable to the one of a cat. I am deep in love with felines, and the God of the house is, indeed, Rubens. That little bastard I adopted and gave my mum rules, he’s worshipped by her and does what he wants. There was no way to bond him with laces in the house, this summer he also managed to escape our last night in French Riviera and no matter how much we tried to call him (we’re still shocked D’Artagnan was crashed on la basse corniche) he reappeared only at 5am. He plays and scratches when he’s tired, it’s impossible to sleep with him because he’s chaotic, unless you’re going to feed him; only then he’s sweet.
By the way, I use to say that we look like each other. In this picture seems like we see the world through the same eyes.
Here he was 2 months, now he got more skilled.
Mistigri and D’Artagnan were completely different apart their grey colour: the former lazy, sweet, fat but super-independent and cautious (we could let him go easily and even managed to take the lift); the latter small (sadly, I won’t see him grown) nervous, rudely sweet, intrepid like the hero of Alexandre Dumas who inspired his name.
This is the (sad) story of my cats made short.
I’ve never had dogs, they’re too dependent. Once a friend told me that a dog is like a permanent infant: it barks to get attention, it stinks, you have to take care of its shit and wash it, you can’t leave it alone or it’ll die.
In fact, I am not fond of infants. Unless I talk about my future ones, the kings 😉