Kitty
At number 7, across the narrow street, sits a pretty French black and white cat... always. But not a scaredy-cat!
It sits on a balcony way above the street. On a brick wall just two inches wide. To it’s left, a twenty foot drop; to its right, a much safer four foot drop. Why risk it kitty? One false move and another of your nine lives might be history! How s/he does it, goodness knows, but I admire its pluck and fur-faced arrogance!
“Hear, hear kitty, kitty!” as one of Britain’s great entertainers was heard to say. Maybe.
- Category: True Stories Told As Fiction
5 comments add one below
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Neville Hunt over 4 years ago
Thank you very much Drew. I was sort of writing them as a diary to help us two old folk to remember.... this trip was intended to be a complete chill for Mrs H, and me to a lesser extent after the wedding, which she worked so hard for. And it truly has been. We share the same taste in most things and this place has really delivered for us.
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Jamie Clapperton over 4 years ago
Glad the holiday is helping you and Mrs H Chill Neville! Give my love to the pussycat if you see him /her again :-)
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Neville Hunt over 4 years ago
Thanks Jamie. I’m sure I’ll see her (I’m sure it’s a female somehow) tomorrow. I’m finding it amewsing!
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Jamie Clapperton over 4 years ago
Amewsing? O.K. Haven't done this for a while , but it has to be done. Grooooooooooooooooooooooooan. I feel better now (Winks)
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Neville Hunt over 4 years ago
Haha!
