Let me introduce you...

It is about time I mention the... thing which is sharing my life, my flat, my tub and my bed...

This 'person' is a hairy-furry feline named Myrtille and arrived in my 40 sq.m. two and a half years ago. It is actually all my fault. She (yes, it is a girl) had delegated the search of a new home to some kind of broker : the SPA (French equivalent to US Animal Care and Control or British RSPCA) which I happened to visit on and off, willing to adopt an under-aged black male cat.

Unfortunately, March is not the best period in the year for kittens and young cats and there was no such cat available. But Myrtille is very good at marketing and advertised herself in the most attractive possible way : she was lying in one of the locked boxes, very sweet and quiet in the rear corner, with some sort of Droopy-look in the eyes. She had been sterilised, tatooed and vaccinated a few days back. I told the SPA lady I liked her (Myrtille, not HER) and she opened the box so I could let her get to know me and see her reaction. Everything went well and I melted for good. Off we went, Myrtille in her travel box and I over the moon. Instead of a young black male, I went for a gray/brown tiger adult female of 3 years. Anyway...

Here is the very first pic I took of her (and the mess in my flat, but this is exceptional) on a bright Saturday of March 05. See how skinny, scared and miserable she looks ? No wonder she got me.