I don´t remember anything of my birth home, because I was so little when I got lost. I didn´t find my way back, so I looked for a new home.
Life is like that.
I don´t tell anything else of the lady of the house, only that she takes care of me and writes a blog. Or two, one of herself and politics. We share work.
The master of the house loves me and the birds, to whom he collects seeds to their birdhouse. Every night the master gets up and lets me out and in. I just say out and scratch the window to get in again. Easy!