Friday, 11 June 2010


I went to France last week and encountered this furry beast. After calling him "Willy" for several days in my loudest English accent I was informed by his owner that his name was actually Woody. Un faux-pas...

He had a tendency to drool (a lot) if over excited and also spent a large portion of each evening busting in and out of my tent despite efforts to blockade him out in the pursuit of a whole nights sleep.

Tents are not cat proof.

1 comment:

  1. I think this could be Morris' long lost brother.


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