I love Cat Tinder. So much better than actual Tinder.
A friend recently had her cat do a runner on her and six weeks on, not hide nor hair has been heard from him. Reportedly a gregarious beast, he's probably residing a few streets away under an assumed name living the life of Riley.
But now my distraught friend is now accepting of the fact that her furry house demon has decamped and is on the hunt for a new moggie.
So I've been playing Cat Tinder, vicariously, for her. I think she may have found a replacement now. He passed the phone interview. My sister also played Cat Tinder with me when she was looking for a replacement for her beloved Maggie. She now has Hope - also known as Hopeless and Hope-she-doesn't-get-run-over-like-the-last-one.
Cat Tinder entails going to all the cat shelter websites and looking at who's available. A bit like Tinder. Except they're not going to meet you, make you feel like crap, then block you.
I want to take them all home.
I mean look at Elma who's presently at the Lort Smith waiting for new parents.
Or Iced VoVo who's at Melbourne Animal Rescue. He's saving to have his other sleeve done in the new year.
Or Radley, who's with the RSPCA. Who's handsome?
Or Shogun, who's out at Ingrid's Haven. I mean, what a dude!
I'm very happy with my fluffy black boy. But there is no harm in looking, is there? Just don't tell him. I feel like I'm being a bit unfaithful.
Today's song:
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