Wills the Cat

This is Wills, Lord and Lady Mantle’s cat.  Although I have tried very hard to become his friend, he is so far resistant to my charms. Incredible I know. If he is feeling particularly tolerant I am permitted to stroke him for a short while, although this cannot compete with the affections bestowed upon him by his loyal servant, the Lord of the Manor.  Much to Wills’ despair, I refuse to abandon my wooing and these continual attempts are treated with utter disdain.  I have become used to his cruel rebuttals.  Not really.  They are very hurtful.  Furthermore, today he was in a particularly fine strop as their ‘ships had been away and he was feeling slighted. In a very vocal manner.  To my uneducated ear it sounded like foul feline cursing, although far be it for me to cast aspersions upon his, up to this point, faultless character.

He may be grumpy, but look how beautiful he is, his slick black fur against the verdant grass.  I wonder what he was thinking as I took this photo:

a) Seen any mice head this way?

b) Shouldn’t someone be mowing the lawn? My delicate little pawsies are getting damp.

c) Not you again! Go away and leave me alone or I will call the police.

d) I have made a terrible mistake and beg you to forgive me.  Please be my best friend, for ever and ever.

I think I know which it was …..

19 thoughts on “Wills the Cat

  1. You need to learn to read the tail signals. When resident cat lets me get out of this chair, I will reach for my book “How to Speak Cat” and let you have a list. And remember if you have a cat he will smell it, even if you don’t, and think you are just a feline invading his territory 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Cats know, you know. We have two visitors who LOATHE cats (yes, it is possible). When our cats were around they used to make a beeline for said visitors, they sensed the antipathy and seemed to enjoy it.

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  3. Ah yes, I recognise the type! We took in a cat in an emergency when it was going to be put down that day- his owner having been admitted to a care home. Stanley – very grumpy British Blue – deigned to live with us for three years. We were his servants -inadequate in every way – according to him. We even bought him a regal purple velvet throw and a heated blanket as he was 25 years old. We loved him dearly. And I think he grudgingly loved us- a little bit.

    Liked by 1 person

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