The alert went up – ‘new cat on blockhouse roof. It’s dinky’ (meaning ‘it’s small’). Further investigation confirmed there was indeed a new cat of brownish tabby colour, small in size and able to slither like a snake, disappearing into the undergrowth when spotted. Over the next few days said cat became braver, tolerating voices and distant movement of humans until one dusk when Dinky made herself known from the next field with a most unexpected insistent, fortissimo miaow.

The Cat’s instant dislike for the newcomer led to one interesting morning which saw Dinky waving in the breeze, clinging to the very top of the olive tree, with The Cat planted firmly on the high wall, only a few feet beneath.

So, when the opportunity to feed Dinky on her own in the drive (the gate to The Cat’s domain firmly closed) presented itself, we took it. After just one feeding, Dinky turned up every day at the same time. Plus, in opportunistic fashion, at a few other times too, just in case. The Cat’s dislike of the small, noisy newcomer was put down to the impending arrival of kittens and it was a surprise to discover that Dinky was male. Not only that, but was happy to hold his own against all the other males most of whom were double his size. Maybe his non-stop commentary wore them down. Efforts were made to change Dinky’s name to a more masculine name. It didn’t work. He remained Dinky, his voice matched by his personality which was very similar to Prince’s, previously black-cat-in-residence to the garden. Dinky had arrived.