I am Morrisson. That probably doesn’t say you anything. Unless you’re a fan of The Doors of course, but that’s another story. But I am a cat. Not just a cat of course, but a royal cat. I have my own well trained personnel and I live in an house completely facilitated according to my status.
Let me tell you immediately that a family adopted me at ‘the age of 3’. That’s been put on my passport. Stupid way of counting from the humans: I was 21 then, now I am 28. A young male!
My new family doesn’t know anything about my former years. And I never look back. Only the present counts.
It seems that I am a Norwegian Forest Cat. Well, not a purebred. So they classified me as a European Longhair. But who cares. I have really beautiful long hair that makes my family pull their hair off. Not only that, but I hate to be brushed and groomed!
A week after my new family adopted me, they had to have me shaved completely, as my fur was completely ruined. But I looked like a poodle!!!! They left me with ‘boots’ on, which made it of course more ridiculous. Horrible what they can do with a royal cat!
It took me 2 months before I could show myself to the girls from the neighbourhood.
Not that I could show myself at that time yet. My new family has 2 dogs. Inferior creatures, but harmless. In the beginning I didn’t trust them. But it didn’t take that long before I understood that they can be useful. Sometimes. And they are obediant to me. Cats rule! The big one is a girl called Zappa (yes, coming from THE Frank Zappa), and that little annoying sausage on short legs is a boy called Fonzie.
More about me in my next post! Meeooww!!!