The cats don’t often come inside the house, but I was sitting reading beside the log fire last night and thought I’d see if they wanted to join me. The one in the photo is the tamest of the lot and, on the rare occasion he gets the chance, he’s usually very happy to settle into an armchair and make himself at home. I’d forgotten that we’d rearranged things in the kitchen, though.
Almost the first thing he saw when he came in was the tiger statue. He then spent over twenty minutes stalking, reversing and approaching with caution from different angles, before deciding that he’d really rather go back into the cold and dark of the garden than spend time in the same place as that fearsome creature.
don't confuse the narrator 