18 January 2011


I have been trying for the past few days to describe the feeling of stroking Seville's stomach, the warm fluffy furry hair, the lightness of its texture and its pristine whiteness, a bit like hot candy-floss but without the stickiness.  I tickle the top of his head and mess up his ginger tabby stripes before smoothing them.  He walks across me, his paws heavy and he still has not learnt to retract his claws on uneven surfaces (me).
And still the perfect description or metaphor eludes me, and I am stuck with "Fluff"

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