Got a message for Millie The Cat? She’d love to hear from you, so scroll to the bottom of the page and drop her a line. Meanwhile, Millie in her own words…[separator top=”40″ style=”none”]
Having been born into somewhat precarious circumstances I made it my business at a very early age to get the hell out of Marmaris, aka ‘The Black Hole’, aka ‘Nightmarish’ (as per my email’s spellcheck). You can read the full account of my early days in my cat-a-log.
One of the first things my new Mum and Dad did was teach me how to use the loo. They’ve got two heads on Esper so I use the front one and they use the bigger rear one (well, they’ve got bigger rears than me, so it’s only fair, I suppose). What I hadn’t counted on, though, was being photographed on the job! Not only that, they wrote an article about my lavatory exploits in their newspaper, The Porthole, oh, the ignominy!
Since living on board Esper I have travelled extensively along the Turkish coast, have been to Cyprus and even to Greece. I have even gone off for one little jaunt on my own; I fancied a trip on a flash Turkish speed boat once, and went off to Bodrum without them. As you can imagine, I wasn’t very popular. Now I am in India, having to contend with strange creatures like snakes, mongeese (is that the correct term?), fruit bats and, my favourite, frogs.
I have become quite a proficient swimmer much to everyone’s amazement, but they can do it, so why not me? It’s a great way to cool down.
The most important thing in my life, however, is fish. Boy, do they taste good. My parents do what they can to catch them for me and I’m learning to fish for myself, but if the truth be told I could do with more.
I have a number of pen friends, in particular an old codger called Buster. He’s ancient and very sweet BUT A BIT DEAF. Socke and I have met a few times, and I’m hoping that one day we’ll be friends. Must be off now, time for 40 winks, but before I go – here’s my world famous Björk impression again…
[Ed’s note] Sadly Millie’s favourite penpal, Buster, passed away earlier this year at the grand old age of 20 (that’s 140 in cat years!). He lived a full life but Millie was too upset to write anything; instead she dedicates this page to his memory and to the correspondence he kept up throug-out their long-distance relationship.