Nils is a big, neutered tom that actually is quite nice. Perhaps somewhat unexpected, considering his late mother's temper. She more or less run the house. Nils' maternal grandmother, the Persian cat Fanny, is reputed to have had the same temperament.

No, Nils is a nice cat. There are other ways to put that, of course. Like saying he is cowardly. Unlike my earlier cats, Nils has never accepted to wear a harness. The first and only time I tried, he almost choked himself to death trying to get rid of it. Hadn't we been two to help him, I strongly suspect he had succeeded in his suicidal attempts. Well now, his harness refusal doesn't really matter. He hardly ever leaves me when we go out together. He doesn't dare.

Once when we were out, he went into a thicket nearby. He didn't stay long, however. He rushed out, his fur and tail all ruffled up. I, of course, became curious and checked what had frightened him so. What did I see? A rabbit.

He has, however, become a little more courageous lately. Has much to do with the young cat, Sixten. Raven-black, small, lithe, elegant - and horribly mischievous. Nils is handsome too, with a kind of rippled fur in that deep grey colour called "blue" when attributed to a cat. But lithe? Or even elegant? Hardly. Clumsy and bottom-heavy are better words.

Anyway, Nils has become incredibly protective when it comes to Sixten. Acts like a mentor towards him, actually. Teaches him how to open cupboard doors, where to find goodies in the kitchen, how to wreak havoc on the window sills.

Nowadays Nils doesn't go out anymore. We have moved, and the new environment (100 metres away from the old) isn't "nice". Even before the move, Nils had started to limit the promenades to a silent rest on the outdoor porch, deciding after some minutes that the outdoors wasn't worthy of him, and returning indoors. However, there is a little more stern explanation to his lethargy – Nils is old, and has developed something of a heart condition. Still rather mild, however.

But I'm not so sure that Nils behaviour at the vet can be attributed to his newfound courage - rather then to his integrity, the same quality that almost made him choke himself to death, rather than to endure a despicable harness.
He quite accepts to have an X-ray taken - provided he may stand upright on his paws. Lie down? Forget it, human! This cat stands!
And when he had a blood-sample taken... We were three who hold him, wrapped in a towel, poor thing. Yet he almost came loose...
When he once should have his bladder ultrasounded, the vet at the nearby Lund Animal Hospital told me in a weary tone: "This cat we would very much like to anaesthetise". Can't really blame them.

Sixten has his peculiarities. He long showed a pronounced proficiency in interior decoration. He was very minimalistic when it came to interior decoration, was Sixten: He preferred naked concrete. Look at his wallpaper page for more evidence.

And then we have Sixten's until recently most prominent peculiarity: Dooreering - the same as mountaineering but involving doors instead of mountains. Look for yourselves if you don't believe me.

Nils too, has his own little ways, of course - which cat hasn't?

One is his manner of eating like an excavator. First he grabs a proper mouthful of food, carries it away to a suitable location (i.e. a carpet), releases it and starts eating. All right when it's dry food, but canned...

Another peculiarity is his call. I don't mean his meowing, that's fairly normal, but his grunting. Yes, his grunting. Sometimes I think it isn't a cat I live with but a Vietnamese Potbelly.

But as I said, he is a nice cat. Affectionate, never criticises me for being away too long, always greets me with a loud purr. Not only when I bring him food...

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