It's a good thing we don't have a dog any more, because around here the cat is most definitely king. I find this quite interesting, for usually dogs dominate a neighbourhood, with their owners automatically forming a sort of clique; people are defined by the kind of dog they have and everyone in the street knows each dog by name. Here in Gartenstrasse, this applies instead to cats. In our little cul-de-sac alone there are 6 different cats. There's Rufi, Brownie, Ruby, Felis (?), Garfield and our own Max. Plus two more mysterious ones who stay inside the whole time, apart from little sojourns to their balcony, from whence they peer down, snootily, on the rest. Max was given such a warm welcome by the neighbours - at least the human ones - when we arrived; this touched me. It must have been confusing for him, though, that Rufi is in fact his doppelgaenger. Imagine that it happened to you - suddenly finding your mirror image staring out at you from a clump of bamboo. And then it goes and steals your breakfast.
Some of you will know that our other (and favourite) cat Monty decided not to accompany us to Bayern. I so wish he had - he would fit right in here. No traffic, endless opportunities for climbing and chasing and taunting your enemies. Max, on the other hand, does not seem to miss him. Not one bit. Moreover, he visibly revels in his newfound only-cat status. We can't help wondering whether he paid Monty to do a runner.
There are two dogs here too, but they keep themselves to themselves. They are German Shepherds and lead a very regimented life - a bit like middle-class private school children in London; you know, endless extra-curricular activities and seemingly no time to just chill. You don't even see a furry face at the window - just the occasional yelp betrays their presence in the house.
Now it's time for me to go and reacquaint myself with my lonely vacuum cleaner. It doesn't get out much these days.
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