It's #InternationalCatDay so here's one for our feline friends.

Legendary photojournalist Bill Brandt had a great eye for an uncanny image. Just check these two Gorbals worthies catching a few rays together in 1948.

Windae-hinging, watching the world and the weans go by from an elevated sill, was still then a daily event.

Just imagine how much more fun it was when you lived at street level, and could speak, face-to-face with your friends and neighburs without leaving the comfort of your chair.

I'm pretty sure the cat would have enjoyed the attention, too, getting a wee pat and a scratch from passers-by, and being able to hop in and out of the house as it pleased.

In fact, looking closer, I suspect, just out of sight, is a chessboard, and this pair are just about to move into a dramatic endgame.

'Checkmate! ye wee fluffy bugger!'

In all my archive searches, cats, as in life are hard to pin down. Daft dugs are ten a penny, but finding a photo of one of our old feline friends is a rare and treasured treat.

Who knows, perhaps this fluffy fella was the original model for Harry Hagan's Brilliant 'Sam the Skull'

I’m a cat, I’m a cat, I’m a Glasgow cat and my name is Sam the Skull
I’ve got claws on my paws like a crocodile’s jaws, and a heid like a fermers bull
I’m no the kind of cat that sat on a mat or the kind that ye gi’e a hug
I’m the kind of cat that strangles rats, and even the occasional dog

Well, I roam aroon doon Shettlestoon and they all know me by sight
“It’s the Skull! It’s the Skull!”, you can hear them yell
As they vanish in tae the night
The Polis Station doon oor way has bars on the windy sill
It’s no to keep the prisoners in, it’s to keep oot Sam the Skull

Well, one fine day no so long ago, they all had had their fill
They sent for the R.S.P.C.A. to come and catch the Skull
There's naebody kin get oot while he's roamin aboot chasin all the weans up the close
Peein on the stairs scratchin his erse and sittin there pickin his nose

Well, oot came the men aboot half past ten in their wee blue Escort van
Right roon the back, one had a sack, and the other had a mallet in his hand
I watched them run doon the back of the hoose, Then I casually strolled tae the van
I jumped in the front and I was off, everything had gone tae plan

Ye can hear them say doon Shettleston way, “Whatever happened to Sam the Skull?
He had claws on his paws like a crocodile’s jaws, and a heid like a framer’s bull.”
You can tell them for me that I’m still running free, never a day is dull
It might sound absurd, but I’m livin’ wi’ a bird in a single end in Maryhill

I’m a cat, I’m a cat, I’m a Glasgow cat and my name is Sam the Skull
I’ve got claws on my paws like a crocodile’s jaws, and a heid like a fermers bull
I’m no the kind of cat that sat on a mat or the kind that ye gi’e a hug
I’m the kind of cat that strangles rats, and even the occasional dog