Or how to kill your blog in just five days.
I thought I’d double-check with myself that I am not taking liberties with the admittedly fragile concept, but no – so far every photo has fulfilled the criteria for gate, the definition of which I have ‘helpfully’ posted beneath to save confusion, plus that of door.
Gate (noun) A hinged barrier used to close an opening in a wall, fence, or hedge
Door (also a noun) A hinged, sliding, or revolving barrier at the entrance to a building, room, or vehicle, or in the framework of a cupboard
I am beginning to think I might have quite lost it. If I were to take up a recumbent position on the psychoanalyst’s couch they would have a field day with me. That is such an awful pun that really do think I have lost it. Perhaps it lies on the other side of these gates.
Today’s post is not really a gate, but it’s not a door either. Still it’s got a Portugese cat in it, so you can’t complain. There were kittens hiding in the shadows. I saw one white and silver tabby one that was momentarily brave enough to poke its nose round the broken shaft of wood before disappearing once more.
We have featured Kevin (common cat) and Stan (Irish Wolfhound) on the blog before and it is a winter-warming visual pleasure to do so again. Last time I think they were idling by the fire reading Heat magazine. This time they are contemplating Life, The Universe and Everything.
I can see that age has made philosophers of them both. Stan has been really ill this year so it’s good to see the back of his head looking in such fine fettle *insert smiley*
We are spending Christmas with them both if all goes to plan; it looks like there’s going to be a fight for a space round the hearth…