cats and pigs

First there was Freycat - bought in Durham (North East England) market because the little cottage where we lived was infested with tiny tiny field mice. Cute little things, but they couldn't control their toilet behaviour, so had to go.

Oh and there was the occasional shrew - far worse so far as the toilet behaviour was concerned....

We didn't mind the little rodents, but they weren't viewed as pets.




Frey - short for Gallifrey, though we never called her that - was the sweetest cat in the world.



She moved south with us to Watford (North West London) - then to Greenwich (South East London) and lived to be an extremely elderly skin-and-bones sort of cat, sweet and lovely till the end when she tucked herself up in a neighbour's shed and died.




Then there were the guinea pigs.
Harley and Brandon, named after LG's cousins.



LG - 8 years old here - had just come back from a trip to the Ragged School museum. She didn't normally dress like this - she preferred it to her School uniform.

Harley and Brandon fought. Real fights, worse than their name-sakes. Ears were torn, blood was shed. They spent at least a couple of years constantly segregated by a fence of chicken wire.

Then Brandon died a lingering and very expensive death, and Marigold moved in, to keep Harley company.



She was the most placid guinea pig in the world.
And, as they didn't fight, we could let them roam about on the patio.





After Harley's death, Marigold moved back down the road, as company for another bereaved guinea pig delighting in the name Sendak.

So, she was a serial monogamist of sorts.

And now there is lovely lovely Logan who arrived about 16 months ago


as he was then

who is a delight


as he is now


Logan works on our current occasional tiny tiny house mouse problem (similar toilet issues)

between foot-fighting



garden prowling




and of course, napping.