The man of the house

Ther’s an expression in Swedish that translates as ‘a loved child has many names’ – well, meet Barry Maurice Balthazar Lionel Simpson. How much love is in those five names?

Barry…how does one describe you? The best way is probably through this picture:

That’s some serious cat loving right there. That’s our weekend morning tradition. This loving tableau is usually shortly followed by Barry impatiently biting my hand because I’m being lazy and won’t get up to feed him.

Barry came into my life in May 2011. I wasn’t even going to get a cat, I was just casually going to a rescue centre “to have a look”. And then he wouldn’t let me go home without him. I mean, how can you leave without someone who manipulates you like this the first time you meet?

I realise that I’m going to sound like ‘one of those’ cat ladies, but he is an important part of my life, so he deserves his own place here. Even if he doesn’t do much physical work around the flat, he’s always sat by my side watching me potter about, or cook, and will often-times make his displeasure (over not getting enough attention) known by trying to climb up my body for attention. Like so:

Attention – now, bitch.

So while he may not have opposable thumbs (but apparently his kind are working on it) and therefore can’t hold a paint brush, measure a wall-space for furniture, or even pour me a nice glass of wine after I’ve been at work earning the dough, he….well, actually…he doesn’t do anything. He just sits and watches.

Any suggestions for even more love-filled names for him? What does he look like to you? If you have a pet, how many names have you given them?

 

 

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