REGULAR readers of this column will know that the Stelfox family is blessed with four cats. Sometimes referred to as the 'bless-ed cats“.
The other morning I feared that we might have acquired yet another.
I opened the patio door to allow our Great White, aka Jason, into the house, only to find an equally large ginger cat sitting next to him. Jason came in and the ginger cat ran away.
The Man-in-Charge, who likes to anthropomorphise, said: "Jason was probably saying 'the food's not bad here, see if you can get a foot in the door. I did and look at me now'."
As a family we appear to attract cats. Jason arrived uninvited, repeatedly helped himself to food, made himself at home and, 10 years later, is still depositing his white fur on every surface of the house. Even being initially captured, neutered and released again didn’t put him off.
Two of our other cats were supposedly temporary acquisitions. They’d been brought into the Man’s surgery to be put down after their owner died. Of course, they ended up being brought home while we found new homes for them. Twelve years later and we’re still looking.
(Incidentally, at this point I should say that while my children like to accuse me of being a ‘mad, old cat woman’ I have been responsible for the acquisition of just one of our current batch of four cats).
The ginger cat has clearly heard good things about us. Funnily enough, we’ve never owned a ginger tom and it's long been The Girl’s ambition to get one. He may be in luck.