Arthur, Felix and Major

Was out a little bit this evening, and I don't why I got to think about my cats. Well actually, they were not my cats, they were my visiting cats.

Quite a few years ago I lived in Holland (or as the correct expression is 'the Netherlands' - Holland is actually just an area stretching in between Amsterdam, Rotterdam, the Hague and Utrecht...ok, I finished the teaching now :).

So I lived in this house. Yes it was actually a house with three floors. In the Netherlands they have so little space so they have to build up and not out. Meaning the stairs between floors are not really stairs, but ladders. You're lucky if you can place your whole foot on it (and I have small feet).

Back to the cats. Arthur was a lovely fellow. Big and red. My friends claimed he was fat. He was not! He was just big-boned with a thick fur. And he hated people. Except for me of course. Might have had a little something to do with me feeding him, but I chose to think he really loved me. We used to take naps together on the sofa.

My house had a big terrace and that's where the cats came in. In to get fed, to receive a cuddle, to have some piece and quiet. Yet today, I have no clue where they really came from.

And this blog item is getting long, so will continue on the next...(since I know y'all have a short attention span :)