RIP CHLOE

Mistress of The Lounge, Terroriser of Ginger Ninja's, fresh fish, cheese & bacon afficionado extraordinaire. You were originally intended to be my Mum's cuddly sit on the lap & purr sweetly cat to comfort her in her old age. Instead you turned out to be a perverse old Tart that refused to sit on ANYONE'S lap, but would on occasion curl up beside you, or wait expectantly in front of you for a gentle skritch under the ears.

The last of the great conversationalists, you could always be relied upon to pass the time of day with me when I got up at some ungodly hour to go drive a truck. Your grip of the English language when talking to the Ninja's was legendary. Even I, as a trucky was shocked & dismayed by some of the language that you used.

But, like all of us, old age &, in your case, cancer, finally got the better of you & you ended up suffering more than we could endure so you had the final trip to the vets & was gently put to sleep with the dignity you so richly earned. Goodbye old girl, I'm gonna miss you. Our life has been so much richer for having shared life with you. May the Heavyside treat you kindly with soft warm beds, plenty of fresh fish, a selection of bacon, both raw & cooked, a perpetual cheese board, neverending milk at room temperature & as much love as you had here.