I popped over to my mum’s yesterday. We could hear some rustling amongst the foliage and there, keeping himself cool, was Boo cat. My mum says that cats choose their owners and this is certainly true of Boo cat. She first saw him trying to catch birds outside her front window, so she shooed him away but he kept returning. He was quite thin and seemed very under nourished, so my mum started feeding him and he decided to move in. Now he is happy and healthy. Sometimes when my folks wake up there is another cat in the house, Fat Ginger. Boo likes to invite friends around, which is fine by my mum.
When we were growing up there were dogs, cats and fish who lived with us. Some stayed and some moved on. Each time an animal died my mum would get so upset and say, “no more animals”. But then somehow an unwanted waif or stray would join our little family. I remember being aged eight and waking up to what sounded like a baby crying, I went into the kitchen to discover a feral cat that my mum had brought home. He didn’t stay long, some cats, like people, are born to wander.