I miss the click-clack of Timothy’s claws on the kitchen floor from when he’s come to see what’s happening, and the more hash tick-tocking of his claws on the more slippery conservatory wood floor.
The sounds were most noticeable after he’d been groomed and had short, “tidy toes”, hair on his paws.
If he tried walking too quickly, or as he god older, more often anyway, his legs would splay and he’d hit the floor. He always took that in good nature, got up straight away, and carried on.