Margot and Barbara, the JMP cats, were 'done' yesterday. Poor girls. To stop them doing unmentionable things to their wounds, the vet sent them home in natty little coats, modelled by Barbara above. In the wood basket, natch.
Margot, I'm sorry to say, is adept at wriggling out of hers. We're trying to persuade her that it complements her colouring, rather than clashing, but at the moment she just won't listen.
High level political analysis resumes tomorrow, with Barbara's thoughts on the implications of the recent BNP local council win in Kent for foreign resident cats.
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