Ever since she was a kitten, some ten summers ago, Lady Voledoomcat has just had this thing about being snuggled up under the duvet. It’s all my fault, really. When she was brand spanking new to the pre-Chookery Somerset household and a replacement to my beloved t’Othercat whom I’d left behind with the kids and first Mrs PtC, I brought her up to the bed after her first night. She tucked herself up under a corner of the duvet and didn’t shift all day. Since then, the bed has been her place of safety, of comfort and peace. Recently, she has been wanting to get in to the spare bedroom so, Her Maj being a kindly soul, admitted her. This is the result. Cat hairs all over the pillows and a dozy puss-cat into the bargain. But, you have to admit, sweet!
I suppose I have to explain t’Othercat. Well, I was young and single and had always had an affection for black tom-cats. I went home to visit my mum in Herefordshire one weekend and discovered that her neighbour’s cat had produced three kittens; two black boys and one tabby girl – collectively known as Sooty, Sweep and Sue. Well, I went back down to my bachelor pad in Bridgwater with the two toms, who became my great pals and domestic tearaways. I had the problem of naming them, feeling that Sooty and Sweep were a little too tweee for meee. The bigger chap got called Harold and the other one, well I couldn’t actually think of a name for him other than … t’Othercat. Caused no end of confusion in the vet’s as you can imagine; veterinary receptionists aren’t generally in the job because of their academic qualifications and explaining that the element of his name which represented the definite article was not capitalised and was followed by an apostrophe seemed just that little bit much for their brave-new-GCSE levels of literacy.
So, I hear you ask, what became of Harold? Well, I got married and he left home. True, absolutely true; a very prescient cat and I followed his example nine years later.