March l8th, l996

Dear Mum,

As this is my first letter to you, and I ought to keep the shock to a minimum, this should be a short letter.

I wanted to find a way to thank you for taking me in, when you did. As you may remember, I was rather on a ‘sticky wicket’ and you basically saved me ‘by the bell’. Unlike poor old Frank Bruno. I was reading dads’ paper the other day, as it was laying on the floor again. Dad is so kind to me - most of my friends are not kept as up to date as I am, and I think it has much to do with dad leaving his papers all over the floor. I wish he would leave the business section upwards more often though…..

Anyway, thank you for taking me in. I know Willam did not have time quite to thank you himself, but he did confide in me that first day for me at Abbotsway, that this "is a very nice house". As time wore on, you kindly fed me and kept me warm. In fact, that rug in front of the fire needs a shake - I think its a little dirty. Not that I am complaining, you understand. Lord knows I have no reason to complain. But I know that you are a stickler for being tidy, and I always have to clean my fir after a stretch in front of the TV.

By the way, I do hope that holiday programme returns soon. I do so enjoy watching that with you two. In fact, you can call me in whenever that grand prix stuff is on - I also like that as well. Anyway, please please please warn me about Carl. I know you two have to have him over as much as possible, but he so tires me out. In out, up down, chasing me around. Its like being in a circus. And I have to be on my best behavior as well. Sometimes it gets me down.

So much for a short letter. I understand from all your recent discussions with dad that uncle Andrew has broken his paw, or perhaps it was his leg. I missed some of the conversation as I was finishing off dinner last week. I hope he comes home soon. I miss him so very much. He used to wrap me in his left arm, a can of that gold stuff in his right, watching war films on cold Winter nights. I understand Summer is coming, as my fur is getting a little long. I will try not to make too much mess.

Enough for now. I hope my writing you is OK. None of my friends write to their mum and dads, but then again, none of them live at Abbotsway. Next time you see me, after reading my first letter, give me gentle squeeze to let me know if you like it.

Yours,

Queenie White

x.x.x.x.x.x

PS. Please please please stop dad putting his big toe in my breakfast. I am so hungry in the morning that I don’t have the gall to complain to dad directly. Please have a quiet word with him. Thanks. Q