Because I like to supply a personal touch now and then, here is my cat Eartha, wearing a scarf. Volumes could be written on the Cold War this Christmas between Eartha (whose namesake of course died on Christmas Day) and my family's three springer spaniels (one pictured at the top right of this blog). There was attempted sniffing, there was hissing, there was retreat and bafflement. There was a truly bizarre, hitherto unknown warbling growl coming from somewhere deep in this cat's oesophagus. It said "What the holy fuck are you?", and the sentiment was mutual. There was a repeat of all that, several times a day. No olive branches were extended; the Iron Curtain did not come down; and the standoff continues, albeit at the greater distance of about 30 miles. Hackles have settled, at least for now, and a wary truce presides.
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