A ginger cat has adopted us. One night, I came home and there he was, sitting on the doorstep; since then, he has taken to sleeping on a shelf above the woodpile on top of a jute bag and my gardening gloves. We had never seen him before and although, as a family, we have never owned a cat, he (we don’t know whether he is a boy, but genetically most gingers are male) has become a welcome, if slightly wild, friend to all except the astonished terriers. I wonder where he has come from?
As a boy, I had a cat called Whisky, which disappeared one day and we presumed the worst. Two years later, while hacking out my horse miles from home, I spotted a cat that looked just like Whisky and, on an impulse, called out ‘puss, puss, puss’, which we shouted out at feed time. She ran towards me and I knew it was her. It turned out that she’d been found in a snare and, disorientated, had lost her way home.
She came back to live with us, catching many mice for a further five years. Our ginger friend is taking over the household and now gets a saucer of milk in the morning from my daughter. I’m reminded of the quote: ‘Dogs have owners, cats have staff.’
Town mouse visits Anglesey
Town mouse drops in on Anthony Garratt.
Spectator: Birds of a feather
Lucy Baring can't count on chickens.
-
Five glorious properties for sale from the 11th to the 21st centuryA tithe barn, a Grade I-listed Norman keep, and a Georgian masterpiece all graced the pages of Country Life this week
-
‘I’m not impressed by an Oxbridge education’: Author Jessie Burton on her acting ambitions, writing ‘The Miniaturist’ and her consuming passionsThe Sunday and New York Times bestselling author wrote her debut novel under her desk while temping as a PA for private equity companies. Lotte Brundle meets her.
