My Cat...

Wheeeeeee! There it goes! The mouse soars into the air, catapulted by the delicate white cat’s paw. As it hovers in mid-air before its descent to earth, the cat’s ears prick to one side and she jumps, flipping the poor dead creature onto the mat before pouncing, grabbing it in her mouth and tossing it into the air once more.

The mouse — or perhaps, looking more closely, a vole, judging by the size of it — was thankfully long dead before she began cavorting with her breakfast. Clearly no one ever told her not to play with her food!

But what a wonderful mouser she is!

Not so long ago, my meagre garden was made even more bereft when the mice settled in and began devastating the roots of beloved roses, lemongrass, lavender and geraniums. One day I put the hose into a pot to provide much-needed moisture, and an entire family of mice erupted out of the pot and down the sides, scurrying off in all directions.

No further encouragement was needed — a cat was required — and fast! Rescued from the streets of a large town, I collected two rat-catchers.

I was not particularly fussy about colour or age, for which the rehoming society was delighted. I was not demanding a kitten or a Persian lookalike — not at all. All I wanted was a cat with an appetite for a mouse!

And that’s what we got.

Little did I know that thrown into the bargain would be two of the most adorable felines imaginable. One, a tortoiseshell, who snuggles into my chest, pressing her warm tummy against my skin. The other delicate and predominantly white, with soft blue eyes that melt my heart as she settles onto my lap and calmly, quietly meditates with me in silence — before pursuing her murderous career.