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.
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'To exist in this world relies on the hands of others': Roger Powell and modern British bookbindingAn exhibition on the legendary bookbinder Roger Powell reveals not only his great skill, but serves to reconnect us with the joy, power and importance of real craftsmanship.
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Spam: The tinned meaty treat that brought a taste of the ‘hot-dog life of Hollywood’ to war-weary BritainCourtesy of our ‘special relationship’ with the US, Spam was a culinary phenomenon, says Mary Greene. So much so that in 1944, London’s Simpson’s, renowned for its roast beef, was offering creamed Spam casserole instead.
