I know many people despise cats (and to be honest if I came out in hives every time they were around I’d hate them too) for their distrust and anti-loyalty. But for the last 15 years I have had this lion of a boy follow me around the house. No matter how I treated him (and at the age of 6 putting him in a stroller or a back pack seemed perfectly normal) or how long I left him locked out of the house hungry for dinner; he is always there waiting for me. He has been there, through the break ups, the self harm, the happiness, the laughter, and the tears, and I can’t remember life without him.
And today I also realised that I’d killed mum’s herbs (although I haven’t killed the poinsettia out the front which I’m actually quite proud of) and so I decided, as part of my attempt to rebuild a more friendship based relationship with her, to replant it with a few new things (although I went a tad over board in my purchase but I’m proud of them none the less)
Now to keep them alive.