Aren’t writers suppose to have cats? Isn’t there a law or something?
This is Mr. Hops. Hopper’s mum passed away soon after he was born, leaving him and his sister orphans. They were bottle fed, kept in a basket where my dog watched over them. Hopper’s little sister, Squeaky, died a few years ago, but Hops is still going quite strong.
Mr. Hops prefers not to be photographed. He’s a big boy with a loud meow, and he likes to wake me at 5am for breakfast and cuddles.