Cagey has asked for pictures of the cat that looks like Queen Victoria. She means Lily.
She settled well in the countryside after a lifetime just outside Belfast. Having watched the inhabitants of her new demesne from a high vantage point she finally descended among them to rule the space. She commandeered the dog basket, stretched out on the sofa, rolled on her back on the floor confident that none of her subjects would annoy her.
All this I have on Cousin’s authority. But I have no new pictures of her, nor shall I. Country roads are often faster than city ones. Lily’s new found confidence in her surroundings led her to think she could cross the busy road some hundred yards from the house. She did not reach the other side. Cousin and her son D found her still alive probably moments after she had been hit. She breathed her last with them, and has now joined other loved and missed pets in the garden burial plot.
Cagey also requested a photo of Westie Pup and that I can provide. Here she is yesterday at the caravan by the seaside, watching through the window, ready to bark at any other dog who has the temerity to walk by.
You might notice the little trailing piece of lead, when we started our walk. But Westie Pup has a bad habit of reaching round and giving her lead a quick chew in the excitement of the moment, so halfway along the coast path the compromised section gave up the ghost. It’s chain leads from now on for this girl.