Another loss. It was at least Arsenal, who are really rather good. Apparently the Arsenal fans the feeder met yesterday were mostly, harmless and in some cases, friendly. Next, time for win and a cat treat bonanza.
I was going to be given the same name as Ernest Shackelton's cat. However, one who feeds me discovered that this cat was called "Mrs Chippy." This was never really going to work for me, although it seems "she" was a "he" anyway. I'm told Mrs Chippy (pictured above) wasn't Ernest's cat, albeit he was technically (and ultimately all too practically), under his command. Whilst Mrs Chippy may have been happily resigned to the name, as a fellow Tom Cat from a rather tougher neighbourhood, it didn't work for me. Trust me, it would't fly in Harlem.
So, Ernest I am. Both Mr Shackelton and Mrs Chippy embarked on the same adventure, and either would have been worthy namesakes. Mrs Chippy had a diary, this blog is mine.
If you have the time you can read this and start to learn more about Mr Shackelton and Mrs Chippy's story.
One who feeds me went to the same school as Ernest Shackleton, hence this pre-occupation.
I now live in an apartment on the Upper West Side of Manhattan with my mate Fritz and the two feeders, one English and one not.
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