Whenever I went away for the weekend, I’d leave enough tucker for him. And..well, I’d get back..yes, I’m going to have to take you with me next time eh. So, down to tasman peninsular, place called Gwendolin..after a fishing boat. I found out real smartly that Black Megs didn’t like corners..not at 80k anyway. Yowl..so.. on the lap..yowl, and then he climbed up and lay along my arm..and stayed there. Claws dug in for support…long sleeves the order of the day. The first time was..different. I had given him some liver..and decided that we ought to use the kitty litter tray. Here we go..around a corner. Black Megs…yowl..then started heaving up..his little rib cage going up and down..and the smell! I managed to stop and stick him in the kitty litter tray..and he did get used to that tray, and I figured that corners were there to be gentle to cats time. On my arm he could handle corners a lot better.