It seems that the more unusual the animal the more popularity they garner. Take, for instance, a cat with a heart shaped pattern on its nose, or polydactyl cats - that's cats with extra toes, dogs born with five legs, parrots who sing along to the Moody Blues and dogs who play the piano.
Going back a bit there was Grumpy Cat, official name Tardar Sauce, who died aged 7 in May 2019. She was an internet sensation who always looked grumpy because of a few health issues including feline dwarfism.
Her Instagram account had more than 2 million followers. Grumpy travelled the world making television appearances and even starred in her own Christmas film.
Bob of London was a stray ginger cat, who motivated his saviour, James Bowen, to kick a heroin habit.
Bowen wrote several books about Bob with more than 8 million being sold in 40 languages. Bob, who often appeared wearing a hand-knitted scarf, even met Kate Middleton at the premier of the movie about their lives in 2016.
Bob lived until he was 14 and died in a hit-and-run by a car in mid-2020. Bowen was reported to be devastated and said Bob gave his life direction and a meaning, which is something most of us can relate to. We all need direction and a reason or purpose to live.
And so, Wallace and I just can't compete with the social influencers.
He's an introvert like myself, he doesn't talk much, he can't read or count or play the piano.
His only real claim to fame is shedding profuse amounts of hair on my keyboard while I'm working at home.
Although, I have just remembered, he does have a predilection for shredding cardboard boxes. He will not walk on a lead or accompany me on treks or bike rides in the mountains. He will not pose for the camera, nor take a bath.
Perhaps I should call him "Useless Cat" and make a fortune videoing and posting clips to Facebook of him sleeping?
But we can't all be internet sensations or social media influencers and in reality would we want to be?
Maybe, but only as a means of getting rich quick. It's a lovely thought, a bit like dreaming about winning Lotto but I think I'd better stick with my day job while they'll have me and be happy that Wallace is here at my time of need - he is my bubble. I am his bubble and we jog along quite well together, boring and as ordinary as we both are. And that, I guess, is a happy ending.
Chrys Ayley is features journalist at Hawke's Bay Today.
