My Newest Correspondent

I know there are people who think that my getting letters from a cat -- even such an erudite cat as Sir Sidney St John Willoughby Portly-Lummox, ACOSB, DLitt Oxon, Earl of Blubberhouses, etc etc etc -- is a little strange.

But, of course, if you know Sid, you understand. He can't not write letters. He is consumed by a need to communicate. And, let's face it, how many people take the time to reply to letters from A Cat? Even That Cat.

They don't know what they are missing. He writes better than many people I know. And he apparently leads by example if today's mail is anything to go by.

Someone has noticed.

And now I have received a postcard from a sheep.

Not just any sheep either. This is a sheep called Eamon. An Irish (naturally) sheep called Eamon. A lonely Irish sheep called Eamon. A sheep who can apparently pose for postcards, buy them, write missives, put on stamps and mail them.

He didn't say much. He's clearly a Strong Silent Sheep. But he did mention being lonely. I'm sure he's looking for a nice young Irish lass.

I know just the gal.

She writes for Harlequin Mills & Boon. And Abby Green has a soft spot for Irish fauna (if you can deal with Irish actors, how could you not deal with Irish fauna?).

Abby is always on the lookout for a handsome hero, especially a literate one -- which of course Eamon the sheep is because, well, he did send me a postcard, didn't he?

Not only that, he comes with his own built in cardigan. No need to knit him one.

I'm sure he's exactly what you're looking for, Abby. And I have no doubt the feeling is mutual.

My Eamon has a slightly different look --and no cardigan.