I used to have two wonderful, mischievous and cuddly black cats called Sherlock and Watson, but sadly Sherlock died so now I just have lovely Watson.
Watson was born on Friday the 13th and I adopted him from a farm in North Devon when he was eight weeks old. He is very adventurous, and he once went missing for eight weeks and was found 40 miles from my house on Exmoor. He is quite naughty, gets into scrapes with other cats and has been known to pop into people’s houses and have a good wander around. But, when he’s indoors in a chilled mood, he’s a happy kitty.
I miss Sherlock every day. He used to show his heart on his sleeve, gave everyone big kisses and preferred cosying-up by the fire or strolling across my keyboard to get attention.
Cats – especially black ones – are magical beings.