If you follow me on Instagram (I’m monty_rose – feel free to add me) it means you’re a) already sick of seeing photos of my cat, Rosie, have stopped following me and are plotting my downfall b) Quite like cats, especially rather pretty torties like her c) more of a dog person, actually, but are way too lazy to do anything about it.
Apologies if you’re in category a) or c)
We adopted Rosie from the RSPCA rescue centre in Bath (otherwise known as Bath Cats & Dogs home – although god knows why as they do rabbits, guinea pigs and loads of other small animals, but hey ho; who am I to argue?) in April(ish) 2011. She was 2. Her name was Rozene, but we changed it to Rosie as it sounds a helluva lot less like window cleaner…
Her pen was on the same side as the dog pens, and so she spent most of her days listening to a LOT of barking. I think this is why she isn’t massively fussed about firework night.
When we first met her we were warned that she doesn’t get on well with other cats, but she seemed friendly enough to us (if a little cautious). Sure enough, we regularly hear her kicking ass at the neighbourhood cats of an evening. And when we have friends over, she is as flirty as Jerry Hall after a particularly bad dance-off. Or something. (I hope that reference works – I wasn’t even watching Strictly back then).
Rosie has surprised us since her arrival with her ‘gifting’. One time she managed to drag a huge, live bird through the catflap (she’s still the size of an older kitten). Another time – a massive rat. We’re awaiting an aforementioned neighbourhood feline any day now…
Anyway, she gives the best cuddles, is incredibly clever, chirpy, polite and loving. You know she loves you if she starts licking your hair.
Oh, and she has a two-tone bum. She rocks.