Our family grows

Soon after we moved into our new house, I noticed that there were a few cats that visited the garden but would not let me near them. They were fairly well fed so I presumed that they did have a home and were simply exploring. Clyde ignored them and Alfie tried to play with them. Then, as they became bolder, but not friendlier, I realised that they were in fact homeless cats, domesticated cats that for one reason or another had become stray, either through being abandoned or lost. Food was plentiful as the surrounding areas are alive with mice, but, as none of the cats were neutered or spayed, I was concerned that they would breed rapidly too!

Clyde

One morning I looked out to see Clyde sitting in his usual position, his back to us, surveying the garden; and sitting close to him was a small, sort of ‘Clyde Mini-Me’. As soon as I went near it, it ran, but came every day and spent time in the garden. I decided to feed it, and then, when it was used to me, I would grab it, box it and take it to our vet for neutering, before releasing it into the garden. So I started putting dry food out for it. Clyde thought this was wonderful, he had inside and outside food now! A few days later a tiny, pitch black kitten arrived with ‘Mini-Me’, so, more food went out. I began to feel a little nervous, how many cats would I finally be feeding?? And, more to the point, what would Rob say??

'Mini-me' and the mongoose

Then we noticed a third visitor in the garden, playing and eating with the cats. A mongoose! Every day they were waiting for food, running and playing and catching each other on the rocks, and gradually the cats became used to me until I could finally touch them. Early one winter morning I managed to scruff them both and whipped them off, howling and scratching inside the box. When they came home again I let them out and gave them food and they wobbled off into the misty gloom of the winter’s evening. The next morning neither cat arrived and I felt terrible! I imagined them lying bleeding and battered in a ditch somewhere! I walked round the roads calling and asked everyone if they had seen two walking-wounded cats! No sign of them.

Two days later Daffy, the pitch black one, came back but it was three and a half months before the other one returned. Where had he been? There are so few houses around us that surely I would have seen him?! I sometimes think that he is a cat-of-little-brain and that he simply forgot where he was! He is called Dilly and he really lives up to his name!

Dilly (or is it Daffy?)

The third (and last!!) of our ‘family’, a lovely tabby, arrived last year - simply strolled into the garden, lay on his back and has never left! He is Alfie’s cat. Alfie plays with him, chews him gently and pulls him around by his ear. Alfie even sits on him, and allows him to play with the ball (sometimes)!

Alfie's tabby friend

They are now (all) firmly inside cats, but Dilly suffers from claustrophobia and hates the door to be closed. As long as he can get out, he is happy to stay in!! But at 3 o’clock in the morning it is not funny to be woken by a cat who wants to go out! So, we did what any cat owner would do, we put a cat flap in the window and spent ages shoving them in and out through the flap instead of being on door duty all evening! Two of them were quick learners. But guess what? Dilly still sits outside the door and waits to be let in!!