So I have a pride of three cats.

And being cats – with little concern for anything but themselves – Coronavirus has passed them by.

For them, it’s still a cat’s life and little – apart from the more frequent company of their human guardians – has changed…

And here lies two of the three…  A posh male pedigree and rufty-tufty black moggie.  Step brothers, sharing a house, but usually ignoring each other…

But as you can see – cats don’t do social distancing…

Nope – life goes on as usual, with the purring at and hogging of their hu-mum’s lap.

And I sit there, having hastily covered myself with a fleece to keep out the cold. Next thing you know, I’m suddenly covered by cats too and pinned down by purring. At least they’re warm…

And I let them stay, despite the fact that I’m starving and thirsty.  Daft bugger that I am…

But THEY don’t care… They are lost in warmth and happiness and the joint joy of their hu-mum draped in a blankie.  It’s your basic recipe for feline bliss…

And who am I, to get in the way of that?

Yours, snugly,
Sandra