MORE CATS
Jonah - the only survivor of a litter of kittens born with leukaemia, Jonah is a star, a show-off, and completely adorable. He is also the most intelligent cat I have ever met. Much loved, totally gorgeous - and he knows it!
Dennis - named after the Chelsea captain because we thought she was a boy. Dennis was brain-damaged at birth and is the feline equivalent of Forrest Gump. Loving, gentle, kind and funny but with no sense whatsoever and the attention-span of a gnat, we protect Dennis from the harsh realities of life.
Otis - our Clown Prince. Otis is illness and accident prone - if there's a disaster waiting to happen then it'll happen to Otis. Dumped in the middle of a park as a kitten, Otis is a charmer, he's funny and loving, noisy and boisterous, and has a real sense of humour. We have nursed him through a million catastrophes - he's cost us a second mortgage in vet's bills - but we can't imagine life without him.
Jack - the Toyboy Trucker's closest companion. He found her in a shed on the hottest day of the year, abandoned at a few days old in a sealed box, she was dehydrated and more dead than alive. He fed her hourly on SMA from a dropper and she grew into an unusual, fierce, loyal and loving - but only to him - cat. Jack hates me, other cats, children, dogs, cars, and particularly bicycles, and attacks them all with reckless abandon. With the Toyboy Trucker she turns into - well, a pussycat...
As there are going to be a lot ruffled feathers - er - fur? - because I couldn't include photos of all the cats, I thought the others should at least get a mention. So, here goes:
Claudia, who has just had her 18th birthday, is as sprightly as any kitten. Mad as a hatter, she likes to sing in the bath, will only drink from a glass, sleeps on her back with her legs in the air, and lived shut in an airing cupboard for five years until we rehabilitated her.
Lennox sleeps with us and spends her days with her "other family" - goodness knows where. She would be a long-furred tabby if she wasn't a scruffball who looks like she's survived a nuclear holocaust. She's more skin than fur, wonderfully affectionate, and has a very pretty face and a very loud purr.
Gavin is our hunter-gatherer. She (yes, I know - but she looks like a tom!) kills everything. Unwanted by her owners - probably because they couldn't cope with the carnage - she brings in livestock on a daily basis. As well as the usual birds and mice, we've been presented with not-quite-dead bats, frogs, grass snakes and toads. Usually in bed. At about 5 in the morning.
Tom is a talker. Tom sits at the end of the drive and shouts at everyone who passes. Tom can be heard from one end of the street to the other. Tom loves dustbins and rubbish bags. Especially other people's. Tom brings home the neighbours' detritus, leaves it on the kitchen floor, and shouts about it happily. It is hardly surprising that we ended up with Tom - no-one else would cope with the noise - or the mess.
Emily is our miniature cat. She never developed from kittenhood and is still the size she was at six months old. She is very pretty, very pointed in a Siamesey way, and has a fixation with the lavatory. Woe betide the unwary if they want to use the loo in our house. Em always gets in there first and is sitting on the seat - waiting.
Alexia is the bean bag cat. Squashy and plush, she moulds herself into odd shapes, will dangle wherever you place her, and flops around as if boneless. She is the survivor of triplets - and very classy. Her sisters, Olivia and Miranda, sadly died from genetic cancer while still kittens. Alexia is 5 now, and so far, has beaten all the odds.