Clyde. the daft typing cat went to sleep half an hour ago, he has never fully recovered from the attack from a dog last month, and despite three vets and four operations, the sily old sod just kept on eating his tail.
Cantankerous, noisy, bad tempered, forever hungery, ..........Daft, soft, more michcheif than a barrel of monkeys, god, I'll miss him.
He's going to be buried at Mum and Dad's place, in one of the most beautiful parts of Devon.
Night, me old fruit bat!

Wassail, Chris, and Margaret, Gizmo, Smudge, and Oliver.