The vet came round to put down one of the cats yesterday.
Posy big green eyes and the softest fur of any cat I’ve ever met, and huge scary claws that she only ever stuck into human flesh accidentally.
She had a tiny voice, not so much a meow as a mi.
She didn’t show any interest in meat or fish, but she did like blue cheese and prawns.
She didn’t like being picked up, and had limited tolerance for being stroked, but if she was curled up on the bed and you rested your head on her like a pillow, she would purr and purr. And then, once you lifted your head again, she’d methodically wash off any trace of contact.
She led a largely sedentary lifestyle, but when the mood took her she had a truly extraordinary turn of speed.
She brought in less prey than the other cats, but she did hold the house record for rarest catch: a big fat Convolvulus Hawkmoth, which is a rare vagrant in Britain.
She was a lovely cat.