Nepeta or Catmint

 

 

When we first introduced nepeta, or catmint, to our garden, the intention was to bring pleasure to our cats Fred and Holly, and it certainly did. They both adored it, Holly in particular. Those beloved pusses are no longer with us and now it's Woody and Pippin who enjoy it, especially Pippin.

But it's not just the cats. Bees, hoverflies and butterflies are also attracted to the flowers. I was delighted to spot a painted lady on it about a week ago. Just one, rather tattered at the wing edges but not too faded. It may have travelled a considerable distance, perhaps as far as France or northern Spain. I really hoped it would find a mate.

A few days later it returned, recognisable by those ragged wing tips, and this time it was accompanied by another painted lady. The newcomer looked much fresher. Since then I've seen them feeding on the nepeta most days.

Yesterday they were joined by a hummingbird hawk-moth, a delight to see. There was no point reaching for the camera because these moths are such speedy visitors, in and out in seconds. It's said they return to the same flowers at roughly the same time each day. I kept an eye out this morning, but I must have missed its usual visiting time.

I was so pleased with my hawk-moth sighting that last night I decided to put out the light trap, just to see what was about. The most exciting visitor was a poplar hawk-moth.

It's forecast to be a good year for painted ladies and I hope that's true. Unfortunately, it hasn't been a good year for long-eared owls or spotted flycatchers. The loss of the big spruces at the edge of the wood, damaged in winter storms, has probably put the owls off. As for the flycatchers, I don't know what has happened to them. We still have the swallows, though, one brood is already on the wing and perhaps there will be another to come.

The Robin

It snowed heavily over the weekend, and outdoors became a veritable winter wonderland. For the cats, it was a great hunting opportunity, as the garden birds were both easily visible and stupefied by the cold.

It probably wasn’t a good idea for Bert to scatter breadcrumbs right outside the glass double doors. It’s charming to see the robin come so close to the door for its feast, but it was also close enough to make the cats acutely aware of the birds’ presence, or availability.

So, when I spotted Woody carrying a limp body in his mouth, my first fear was for the robin. But there appeared to be a long, dark dangler hanging from his jaw. A young rat. That would be all right, better than killing one of Bert’s robins.

Then Hannah’s wee dog Chico spotted it. Chico likes to bullyWoody and steal his kills. He got outside and took the little dead thing. I pulled wellies on and went out into the snowy garden to take the creature off him. It wasn’t easy persuading him to give it up. And when I did, I saw that the dangly thing wasn’t a rat’s tail. It was a long, limp bird’s leg. A robin. All bedraggled, yet unbloodied. Did Woody kill it? Or did he find it after it had perished? It might have died from the cold. I decided not to mention it to Bert and put it in the bin.

Bert was away when all this occurred, driving Hannah to work. When he got home, he went straight to the cats, both standing to attention and looking for their breakfast. He petted and stroked them both. It is funny to think how he used to dislike cats. Harry de Cat changed his mind, then Holly. He adored Holly. Big Fat Fred was another favourite. All those cats are gone now, but Bert still has a lot of time for Pippin and Woody, especially Pippin.

I was wondering why I feel less uneasy when cats kill rats rather than robins. Surely rats have as much right to existence as robins. But rats have such a bad reputation, disease, dirt and all that. That’s not entirely fair, for the wee birdies are pretty disease-ridden too, and when our cats eat them, they can pick up parasitic pests. Despite their worms and mites, I still prefer robins, wrens and goldfinches to rodents. Apart from shrew mice*. It’s so sad when the cats get them, for they are so sweet and cute, with those little pointed snouts. Adorable. Yet it feels wrong to make the distinction. Who knows where that might lead one?

Woody and Chico

Happy to report that the robin Bert was feeding by the door has survived another day. The feeding station has been moved further away.

*Not rodents, although cats don't make a distinction. They are one of the most common mammals in the British Isles.

January Blues

 

First of all - a Victoria Sponge update. A recent reader will remember that Bert was making one for the visit of Martha, Evie, their folks and the Antipodean branch of the Haribo family. I illustrated that post with a picture of a Mary Berry Vic Sponge and some of the FB folk thought that was the one that Bert created. Afraid not. We did not take a picture of Bert's VS nor did we tell our guests (except Paul) that Woody had munched a chunk out of the lower layer. It must have been all the eggs and butter that attracted him. Cats do love a bit of dairy. 

As far as I know, none of our guests got cat flu. I was careful only to serve them the parts of the cake that remained uncattered.  The cake was actually delicious, much nicer than the carrot cake I made. Onwards and upwards with the Victoria Sponge, Bertram.

It was after that enjoyable evening that my mood declined. Nothing to look forward to except snow and icy weather and taking down the Christmas Tree that I had grown to love. That tree cheered me every day it was up. When I took it down on Sunday I had another mood slip.

I let the news get to me. Certain names were triggering. I won't mention them. President Carter's funeral was the only news event I tuned into and then only slightly. One glimpse of an over-made-up face and I recoiled from it.

But, enough of that. I am going to look for joy even it only lasts a second. I usually don't like snow but this time it was beautiful. Not too much of it, not that deep but certainly crisp and even. I'll draw a veil over the slippy, slidy, very scary journey I made on Tuesday when I foolishly took the back road from Galgorm to home. At one point I thought I would have to phone Bert to bring the tractor to pull me out of a hedge.

Since then I've been confined to barracks. Hannah doesn't even like me leaving the house in case I fall and break something. I might go out tomorrow.

I had a lovely chat with London Sister earlier. That's why I'm going to search out my joy. She told me so. That picture of the frosted witch hazel is joyful even if, thanks to my dodgy sinuses, I can never smell it.  I'm told it's divine.

Also, the cats good Pippin and bad Woody curled up together. It's a rare event these days. Pippin doesn't like Woody that much.

I wish Rusty had someone to cosy up to this cold night. This might be when he really feels the loss of Lily. He has lots of fresh straw, a sleeping bag tied around him and an old duvet. I hope it's enough.

A Week In Pictures

 

Above, are my latest purchases from our local Oxfam shop. To be added to the To Read pile. The Richard Flanagan is for Bert. Its subject matter might be too harrowing for me.

The two youngest members of our animal family. They have a peculiar relationship. One minute it's all lovey-dovey, the next... battle royal. Earlier today Chico was trailing Woody around the kitchen floor by the throat. Woody seemed to be taking masochistic delight in it. As I said, peculiar.

Thanks to a few pleasant blue sky days, I was enjoying the garden again. 

After a couple of years in the wilderness, things were taking shape. Even Bert was showing an interest. 

But today. Horrible. Wind, blustery rain, everything being blown about. What I'd give for even three pleasant days in a row.

Which doesn't put the snails off. I've just pulled five of them away from my newly planted nasturtiums. The two pictured are engaging in snail foreplay.  

I am literally experiencing empty nest syndrome. Since my last post the spotted flycatchers have flown away. They are still around, somewhere. I saw them a couple of times but oh how I miss hearing them cheeping and watching the parents fly to and fro answering their pleas for food.

They were not the only ones crying to be fed. A couple of nights ago, after I'd gone to bed, Bert strolled towards the lane. He heard the young owls calling and because he could hear them (he's pretty deaf) knew they were close. He must have disturbed them as they left their perch and flew over his head followed by a parent. I was so jealous when he told me this.

The next night I went to the same spot. I heard the young owls squeaking and then the answering call of the adult long-eared owl. That sounded like a gruff bark. Perhaps that call was meant as a warning. I didn't get to see the owls but was pleased to hear them.

Our snails weren't the only creatures caught in the sexual act.

Lilioceris lilii (Scarlet lily beetle) found fornicating on lilies. 

I've learned a lot about these little pests this past week. They're not native to these islands and have only been around since the 1990s. They have a high sex drive, and lay hundreds of eggs, they squeak when threatened and their grubs hide in squelchy blobs of their own black excrement. They also perform back flips when disturbed, land on their backs and hope not to be spotted as they present their black undersides.

The grubs which survive me will, when fully fed, hide in the soil and emerge next spring and so it begins for another year.

Nice sharp shadows on one of the sunnier days this past week. More of that, please.

Durty Danny

This past couple of years have seen us get two kittens and a pup. This has been cheering and has brought a bit of youthful high spirits to the house. This is all very well except that ten years from now they are going to catch up with us in decrepitude and it seems unfair, it's already unfair to foist our old selves on young animals. We might be wiser these days but we're nowhere near as much fun and Cleo hasn't had a tenth of the experiences that Danny and Rosie had being the beloved dogs of far younger people.

Danny travelled. He was never away from beaches, was all around Ireland, and even went to Manchester to visit Katy when she was at Uni. He loved the Dingle peninsula and had great times in Sligo and Galway. He was part of the County Antrim rave scene and attended many open-air music gatherings of an informal sort. We were party animals and so was he. Rosie might not have been as sociable or as far-travelled but she enjoyed her outings too as did Paddy. 

It helped that Nellybert were outrageously irresponsible. We let the dogs loose and assumed that all would be well. Once, at the Omagh Bluegrass Festival, we lost Danny and Rosie. We were staying (big crowd of us) in two holiday cottages. The two dogs were soon found, at a barbecue, to which they had not been invited. Danny was damnable for joining other people's picnics and barbecues and somehow he always got away with it. As did we.

One of Danny's more memorable trips was to Galway City. We had rooms somewhere and Danny was to sleep in the van. No bother to him as the van was his second home. Before we turned in for the night we took him for a walk. On a lead, but he was OK about it. A small van passed us with one of the back doors open. Something flew out. Partially cooked chicken pieces. Danny started to munch.  He ate as much as he could and then gathered in his mouth what he could carry back to the van. I told you we were irresponsible. We retired to our lodgings which were cheap but not cheerful. There is nothing cheerful about slugs crawling up the bathroom tiles. 

The next morning our darling dog was still alive, very much so but for the entirety of that day, the farts coming out of him were abominable. Served us right. 

And that was just one of Danny's many adventures. Poor Cleo is already over a year old and hasn't gone a step further than Waterfoot Beach. No off-lead adventures for her either as we are responsible pet-owners now. About time.

Cleo at Waterfoot

A Tale of Two Badgers

I believe in the existence of badgers. I've seen the entrances to their setts, I've heard them snarl at Ziggy when he went down their tunnels, I know they live in the woods, I suspect that in the past they were scratching at the doors of the hen house and I've even seen dead ones on the road. But I've never seen a live one and I still haven't.

Last night Hannah came rushing into the house, Chico in her arms.

Where are the dogs? Are the cats here?

What panicked her? Just outside our house, halfway between the back door and the entrance to the hen run two badgers were fighting. Hannah was scared that one of the animals might have been one of our pets. But no, two badgers fighting. Bert saw them both run across the yard then scoot off in different directions. All our pets were fine. Cleo was outside, as was Judy. Judy, being stone deaf, heard nothing but Cleo was excited and set off in pursuit of the badgers. 

I was so jealous. I've never seen a living badger and now Chico has and he is only eleven weeks old.

Chico is Hannah's puppy. This is his sixth day living here and he is well settled. Nothing fazes him, not even fighting badgers. But wait until he meets the pigs!

Walking in the Woods

Over Christmas and the New Year I got out of the way of walking in the woods. Too busy. Busy cooking, busy eating, busy entertaining. Hannah was much more diligent. Unless she has an all-day work commitment she takes Cleo walking. Rain, snow or shine. Cleo doesn't mind. Pippin does mind and she'll only go out if it's dry underfoot.

Pippin is a walking cat just as Caps, Harry and Holly were before her. Fred didn't care for walks and we wondered whether Woody would be up for it. Today we found out. Hannah got the Dunlop wellies on, Cleo's cue to get very excited. It has been so soggy lately that Pippin has been avoiding the wood but today it was frosty, the mud was hard and she decided to go with them as did Woody, for the first time ever. Pippin showed him the ropes, which paths to take, which trees to climb. He had a great adventure, came back ravenous and ready for a good long nap. 

These past two frosty days I've been back in the woods too. Today I met Bert and the dogs on the lane returning from a walk. Jess went on home with Bert but Cleo came with me for another walk, her third of the day.

When we returned I said to Bert,

Y'know if we'd met a stranger on the lane, maybe some devil, horns, cloven hooves the works, I'm sure she'd have went walking in the woods with him too.

Coronation Weekend

They were my second favourite socks. They were comfortable and just putting them on cheered me up. Cleo chewed the toe out of one and they are now in the bin.

This log basket was a 31st birthday present from Kerry Sister. It's been around a long time. Up until a few days ago it was in tip-top condition. Then Cleo fell to it with her wee needly teeth.

Well might she look hang-dog. She just got a telling-off for bullying Pippin who is far too soft with the pup. She should take lessons from Fred who will take no nonsense from Cleo.

 

Then we had the pleasure of Martha's company for three nights. Her fracture prevented her from going on a planned camping trip with her family so she spent it with us. I took her for lunch at Creative Gardens which was delightfully empty thanks to the CrownFest in London. Who'd have guessed that the folk who frequent upmarket garden centres would be the sort of people glued to their screens when there's a bit of monarchy-related pageantry going on.

Then, taking advantage of the quiet highways, we motored to Antrim so Martha could meet Marty and Jazzer's new pup. His name is Arlo, he is two weeks older than Cleo and quite a lot bigger. We expect to see a great deal of him in future months.

Whilst at the Banjos, we called into Marty's music room. Although it has the look of a pub about it no strong drink was served.

I really like what Marty has done with the mirrors from Pearlie's old dresser.

I had mentioned to Martha that Antrim had a really good sweet shop, well worth a visit so that's where we went next. The customer service was first class despite Martha taking ages to decide what she wanted. 

Saturday night was pizza and wine/fruit juice and The Big Lebowski. 

Sunday was a quiet day for us as Martha went on a jaunt to Montalto with Auntie Hannah and her friends. Martha didn't do too badly for outings for a girl on crutches. 

And what of the Coronation? Didn't see a bit of it. That's two in a row I've missed now. Though I did see some photographs. Their crowns did not become them. 

Snow Day

I woke up to several inches of snow this morning, and it all looked rather fine. My pictures were taken just before 7am as that is the time our cats, Pippin and Fred think I should arise from my cosy bed and feed them. 

I don't mind as it gives the slack-bladdered dogs an opportunity to take a morning pee. Any later and they'll go in the bathroom. And that would be the bathroom floor. 

It's wonderful what a good fall of snow does to take the rough look of the yard and garden.

The third and fourth things I do of a morning is have a coffee and a catch up on the news. This morning I read that a lot of schools had closed down. There was a list. Martha and Evie's schools were not on the list. I felt sad for them. 

Then off back to bed with my coffee and a read of these three books. I love snow days.

The Old and the Young

 

Spot the odd one out

It seems such a short time since Judy and the pigs were new. All of them reach their teens this summer, which is old for dogs and pigs. Jess is coming eleven so she's not so far behind them while Fred, the oldest of all will soon be fifteen.  Nellybert are feeling a bit creaky too but at least we have Pippin, young and lively and doing well despite her awful accident.

Now, it might be a crazy idea but Pippin won't be the baba of the house for much longer as Nellybert are getting a PUPPY! The pigs won't care, Judy will be stoical, Fred will be mildly put out, Jess will hate it and Pippin? Pippin will be thrilled. Somebody new to play with.

Pippin and Fred

The very popular Pippin continues to make her presence felt at Nellybert's. Everyone likes her. Martha and Evie are delighted with her and weigh her on every visit. She is putting on those grammes at an incredible rate. And no wonder as her appetite is very good.

Hannah has her for a couple of hours every evening. Pippin is her therapy kitten, helping her to relax after complicated and stressful working days. Even Fred seems to tolerate her.

I make sure to feed them together with Fred getting his bowl first. He is the senior cat. We had our doubts about the two of them getting on, as his relationship with our previous cat was never good. Holly took against him from the first moment she saw him and that animosity continued until she died. We always knew they were in each other's vicinity when we heard the growls and hisses.

I can see that things will be different with Pippin. She is fascinated with Freddie and follows him around. I think he is beginning to like her.

Sharing a bed while keeping a respectful distance.

 

Holly and Fred really did not like each other.

Apart from catty stuff life is quiet around here. I'm still feeling the effects of the fall but am much more mobile. Yet not mobile enough to have a good go at the garden or go for a day out in the city. I'm able to potter about and carry out tasks that do not involve too much walking, kneeling or climbing. I can drive but I only feel up to short journeys. Things can only get better. 

Holly

 

Holly came to live with us in December 2006. She was born on a farm near Slemish and the day that Zoe and I collected her, we were told that all she'd ever eat was chicken. I wondered what kind of fancypants kitten we'd landed ourselves with but it turned out she was prepared to muck in with the rest of us and eat whatever was going.

She was always feisty. She loved to have arguments with Bert and she always won. Many the blooded finger he got from her but as she'd have pointed out if only she could speak, he had it coming to him.

I really thought she had a few years left in her yet. Her coat was glossy, her appetite good, her fitness levels great for her age (she loved to go walking with humans and dogs in the woods) and her zest for life was still there. Bert saw her racing round the yard chasing a dead leaf only the day before she died and Zoe saw her scoffing her dinner with relish only a few hours before. 

I went to bed after midnight and was just settling down to sleep when I heard a piteous mew. Not an unusual thing as either her or Fred would make that hard-done-by sound when they wanted outside. I got up thinking it was probably Fred. It was Holly and she was having some sort of fit in the corner of the kitchen. I called Bert as I am cowardly in those sorts of situations. He said, 'She's dying', picked her up, stroked and soothed her, his eyes all teary. She calmed, no more spasms but she was limp. We sat awhile. I thought of calling the vet. Bert thought there was no point. I said I'd take her to bed with me. My bed was one of her favourite spots. I wrapped her in a towel and lay beside her. She was very calm and still. She stayed like that for about two hours then around three o'clock her breathing changed and she became agitated. I gathered her up and a few minutes later she died.

Bert checked to make sure. And wrapped her back in the towel and placed her on the floor. She looked as if she was asleep. I got back into bed and cried a little. 

This morning I had planned to go to IKEA with Zoe and that's what we did. Bert was left with the task of burying Holly. He asked where? and I said, you decide - maybe not too far away. When I got back he'd placed her in a wild part of the garden behind a drift of snowdrops. She used to like lying there on sunny days.

We have five pets left now, two dogs, one cat and two pigs. The youngest (Jess) is nine, the oldest (Fred) is thirteen. Judy and the pigs will be twelve this year. We'll give them the best life we can for it might not be that long. It's all we can do.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/17223773@N00/albums/72157688045378801

Two Wrongs Don't Make A Right...

 ...or do they?

I decided to move my primary bird feeder. It had been placed in the position that Pearlie had enjoyed, just outside the window that she could view from her hospital bed. I don't know which she liked the most, watching the wee boys eating the peanuts, or bossing Bert to keep the feeder full. Back in Pearlie's day, it was all about peanuts and fatballs but I like to provide a variety of seeds and mealworms too. 

The problem with a feeder close to the house is that it makes life easier for the cats. They are both old now and not such active hunters but if there are going to be small birds strolling around the front door gathering up the overspill from feeders, and especially if those birds are this year's breeding and short on sense, then it is much easier pickings for Holly and Fred.

Still, we got to June before we had a fatality. I'm not even sure what it was as Fred had the head and breast devoured before Bert alerted me to his crime. I went out to him, caught him in the act and as there just happened to be a vat of rainwater and a bucket sitting handy, I filled the bucket and drenched the murderous bastard. That disturbed him at his repast.

I did try to identify it by the wings and tail feathers but not sure. Possibly some sort of a tit. I thought of posting a picture of the remains on Facebook but decided against it as,

(a) it won't bring it back and

(b) it might depress someone.

So I moved the feeder to the shepherd's hut. High enough to deter cats and close to a big thick hedge.

It was only there moments before the birds found it. The first caller was a great tit.

Quickly joined by a goldfinch.

Then my current favourite birds...

Two baby tree sparrows.

First Thing

 

How do I start my day? I get up early, switch on the electric blanket, go downstairs, let the dogs out and make a cup of coffee. If there’s nothing much going on in the world, if nobody’s whining about not getting elected, and nobody’s getting impeached I return to my cosy bed with the coffee and read one or three of my books. I am usually accompanied by a dog and a cat who hate each other. They position themselves at opposite ends of the bed. Sometimes they glare at each other, other times they ignore each other.

It's a wonderful start to the day.

Saturday

Woke up early.

Went into Ballymena to feed a cat.

Bought The Guardian and RJ Kerr soda farls.

Met some twins coming out of the woods and fed them Cheerios and Haribo.

Ate toasted soda, cheese and chilli jam.

Sold half a dozen eggs to a good Christian man. Put in a prayer request.

Looked for hen's nests. Failed to find any. Decided hens were sleekit, cunning bastards.

Sowed runner beans and French climbing beans.

Pricked out hairy-stemmed poppies and papaver somniferum.

Went into Ballymena to feed a cat.

Ate toasted soda, cheese and chilli jam. And Haribo.

Gave second granddaughter sequinned dress bought from eBay.

Checked out Jasper Conran party dress for first granddaughter on eBay.

Ate toasted soda, cheese and chilli jam. And Haribo.

Kept tight eye on Jasper Conran party dress on eBay. 14 minutes left and going for £2.

Took phone call from friend regarding important matters,

Phone call lasted more than 14 minutes. Jasper Conran party dress re-listed.

Contacted seller, offered £1.50 more and 'won' Jasper Conran party dress.

Cut orange in half and used it to tempt pigs from field for early bed-time as Nellybert invited out to supper.

Rewarded good pigs with half an orange apiece and put them to bed with early supper.

Tried and failed to gather hens for early bedtime.

Went to good friends and served delicious supper all recipes from Yotam Olenghetti Jerusalem cook book. Felt slight frisson of guilt as was planning to boycott Eurovision Song Contest but food sublime.

Left after delightful evening of good food, conversation, wine and chocolate (no Haribo) clutching Jerusalem cookbook from which I am to photocopy favourite recipes.

Returned home and did livestock count. Foxes 0, Chickens 15, Rats 4.

Updated blog.

Goodnight.

A Sociable Weekend

Nellybert have had a particularly sociable weekend and have not let the snow keep us back. Not a bit of it.

On Friday I went for coffee with one of my co-grannies. For thanks to our modern ways (divorce and re-partnering), many of today's children have more than the requisite two of each. Later that evening I met up with two cousins, one from New Zealand and one from Hong Kong and their respective husbands. Also, there was a second-cousin and his wife that I was meeting for the first time. We had an excellent evening of eating, drinking and generally catching up. No photographs were taken by me. 

Maybe I was just a wee bit tired the next day but not too tired to take a walk up the snowy back lane with four dogs and a cat. See photographs.

In the afternoon we were visited by co-grandparents Mick and Linda. No photographs were taken by me.

Today we called on some friends who were trapped in their house by snow. We brought some essential supplies and were given coffee and wine. I took this photograph of their Christmas cactus which is splendid enough to be given a place in the Palm House.

While we were there our friends were called upon by a young, red-headed man who was delivering a tonne of firewood. The young man was unable to drive his van up the steep, slippery and snow-packed driveway. Our friend ( a frail pensioner) had been trying to clear the drive of snow but the young man (still shaking from the great feed of rum he had imbibed on the previous night) took the shovel from him and cleared it in quick time. It was amazing. Now our friends aren't snowed in anymore which is good as they have invited us for supper sometime soon and I'm looking forward to that unless Mrs, who reads this, tells Mr that I called him a frail pensioner. Only joking Rob! Sure you're only two years older than I.

Off home again to cook a plain man's dinner of mince, carrots and onions, boiled spuds and steamed broccoli with apple crumble and custard to follow. We had two plain men coming, one whose wife never boils spuds and another who only knows how to cook potato dauphinoise. Hannah is not a meat eater so I served her a healthy little dish of egg and chips which I believe she enjoyed. The meal was a great success except that Bert has started to crake on about never getting potato dauphinoise. No photographs were taken by anyone.

Every Picture: Cats and Dogs

Muff and Danny

If cats are introduced to dogs as kittens the cat will adapt well to their canine companion. As kittens, they will treat the dog as a surrogate mother (no matter the dog's gender) and as adult cats,  they consider the dog a contemptible creature only fit for using and teasing. Remember the adage, dogs have owners, cats have staff.

Judy and Fred

Fred is an Alpha Cat, Judy an Alpha Bitch. Fred always wins as Judy cannot climb trees.

Fred and Bonnie

When Fred was a kitten he was happy to permit Bonnie to share his food. No matter that the food was actually Bonnie's to start with. Fred was generous.

Bonnie and Holly

Bonnie's first kitten was Holly. She was very tolerant and put up with the little cat's relentless bullying.

Paddy, Rosie and Harry

Cats love to lie on people's beds. So do dogs. Paddy is resigned to Harry's presence. Rosie is thoughtful. Perhaps she should bite Harry? Harry is resolute. He's not going anywhere.

Holly and Jess

There are very few photographs of Jess in a cat's company. She's never known a kitten and the adult cats she shares her home with are not to her liking. Holly is hard to see in this picture as she has been treed. Jess needs to get herself a kitten.

Remembering Muff, Danny, Bonnie, Paddy, Rosie and Harry.