For Siena

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While I was In Toronto last week, I made a new friend who has a keen interest in cats. Unfortunately, the only photograph I could find on my computer was a blurry shot of Fly.

I like to call them my little old ladies even though I don’t think they look it: Nin is 14 years old while Fly is 12. Nin is the nicest cat I’ve ever met but she is a glutton – I adopted her from a rescue shelter as a kitten and was told she’d been abandoned in a forest. She remains convinced that every meal is her last, and will attempts to steal Fly’s food at every turn (we like to hum the theme from the pink panther when she stages an attempt, though the music from the great escape would probably be a better match).

We originally named Fly after the sheepdog in the movie Babe, and it turned out to be auspicious: she goes through phases where she shepherds yarn balls. She never tosses them around or tangles them – she just brings them upstairs (meowing very loudly at the same time) and leaves them at the living room’s threshold. She does this every night at the same time for a few weeks or months, then stops only to begin again several weeks later.

So, those are my cats. It was lovely to meet you and your brother and I hope you enjoyed the photographs.