‘Is the heating going to be on?’ Belle asked me as we were on our way home yesterday evening.

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I put it on earlier for the cats. In case they got cold.’

She looked at me.

‘The cats who spend the whole night outside and are covered in fur?’ she asked, eyebrows raised.

‘Yes,’ I said, feeling a bit silly, ‘I didn’t want them to be sad.’


Welcome to my new life, in which I spend an unreasonable amount of time every day worrying about whether or not my cats are happy. Because how exactly do you know if a cat is happy? What if they are bored? What if they get lonely and miss me but don’t know how to tell me? What if they wish I’d leave the radio on, or would like a different blanket?

Every time I leave the house I wonder if they’ll be sad, not knowing when I’m coming back, (I do tell them but I never see them write it down), or if when I DO come back they will have forgotten me. It can be hard with cats because they often don’t give a lot away. A dog will make it very clear how happy he is, but cats play it much cooler. Someone on Twitter said to me recently that cats can actually understand and speak English, they just CHOOSE not to. I feel like this could be true.

I know I’m doing all the basics – they’re microchipped, vaccinated, treated for fleas and worms regularly and have a balanced diet, (WHISKAS® ‘creamy soups’ are their favourites, and I find it adorable that they are called ‘creamy soups’), but how about their emotional wellbeing? Are my cats happy?

When you look at it rationally, they do seem pretty content.

They mainly lie around on top of me on the bed like this:

How do I know if my cats are happy?

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When your children are small, you imagine a chart that looks something like this:

important advice as a parent

And then they grow up and you realise it’s actually more like this:

important advice as a parent

Oh. View Post

At the moment for book group we are reading A Spool of Blue Thread by Anne Tyler. It centres around a family of four children and the generations either side, and how we live as part of a family and how that shapes us.

At one point in the book the mother, Abby, makes a comment about parenting. She says ‘you can only ever be as happy as you unhappiest child.’ I don’t think this is a new statement, but I hadn’t heard it before and it made me stop, put down the book, and think about it for a little while.

Is it true? Can you only ever be as happy as your least happy child?

as happy as your least happy child

Initially it stopped me because I thought perhaps it was one of those simple, throw away lines that perfectly captures something very true. We all want our children to be happy after all, and it’s not nice when they aren’t, but the more I thought about it, the more I disagreed with it. I mean, no offence to my children, because I think they are amazing and beautiful and strong and everything, but they aren’t always the HAPPIEST of people.

I decided I have two problems with it: View Post

I’ve been single now for coming up five months.

On the one hand I am perfectly happy – work is good, I’m settling into my house, and have the kitties obviously. Who could fail to be happy with three cats of their very own to stroke every single day? I love being able to do everything on my own terms, have all the kittens on the bed without anyone raising their eyebrows at me, spend all my spare money on yellow velvet armchairs from eBay, all that jazz.

But also sometimes I feel lonely.

When I say this to people, or words to this effect, there isn’t a huge amount of sympathy.

‘You don’t need a man!’ people say. (Normally married people. Cheers guys.)

‘Embrace being single!’ (Okay…)

‘You’re perfectly fine just you!’ (Obviously.)

I do know all those things. I don’t NEED a man. I am perfectly capable of doing all the things that need to be done, I have loving friends and family, I can work a drill and I can kick back with a puzzle as well as the next person. I GET IT.

But still, sometimes I feel lonely.

Not in a way where I feel physically alone, but a little bit like something is missing. Just sometimes. Not like I’m sobbing into a tub of Ben & Jerry’s every night or anything, but from time to time it would be nice to have someone squeeze my hand and exchange a glance that’s just for me.

And this is OKAY. View Post

I know I post a lot about my kitties on social media, and sneak in the odd picture of them here, but I thought it might be time for a little round up?

I say that as though it’s YOU who wants to see them, rather than me that wants to look at them. I woke up this morning though feeling a teeny bit fraught, after having those flustered dreams where you’re trying to do something and it never works, so I thought this might be soothing.

We’ve had the cats for less than three months, and yet I can’t imagine life without them. I always knew I was a cat person, but I had no idea that I was going to love them quite so much. I mean properly, like they are real life babies. (Which I DO know they aren’t, but it would be awful wouldn’t it to go to work knowing your seven month old baby was just playing in the street on their own??)

Inevitably, my camera roll is now about 87% cat, and so I had a look through and picked out some of my favourites – photos that capture certain things I love about my cats.

I love how my cats tesselate

The first picture is actually a pair.

I peered over the edge of the sofa to look at (one of) the cats’ beds, because I heard little kitty noises. Endeavour was asleep, looking very cosy.

cat asleep

Literally two minutes later I had another peep.


What? View Post

Do you remember that time my pyjamas smelt of Michael Bublé?

It was a while ago now, and I’ve washed them a few times since. The smell is no longer there.

Michael seemed put out last time he came round.

‘Why do your pyjamas no longer smell of meeeee?’ he sang. ‘Why have you forsaken me so?’

‘Michael, Michael,’ I replied, trying to quieten him down a little bit, ‘you need to get over this, you need to move on.’

‘But Josephiiiiiiine!’ he sang, at such high volume that the cats hid under the bed, ‘I cannot leeeeeeeave you!’

‘Well you must Michael,’ I insisted, shooing him down the stairs and out of the front door.

‘At least let me leave you this By Invitation gift set,’ he said, thrusting a box through the gap in the door in a last ditch attempt to win my heart. ‘It contains a 50ml Eau de Parfum and a 150ml shower gel. Spray a little on your pillow and think of me!’

I took it, just so he would leave, but I can’t keep it, so I’m giving it away in this competition.*

Michael Buble By Invitation perfume View Post