Dawn and time for a quick feline inventory. Female garden cats, such as The Cat, have favourite places to sleep so are easier to spot. The males are less predictable so checking high walls, boxes, trees and a quick scan around the surrounding fields is advised. A quick total for the garden cats, and a quick total for queueing cats in the drive, fields and front path will indicate how much food is required. Approximately. Very approximately.

Next the tricky subject of the breakfast menu. First priority, garden cats. All have different preferences. The Cat enjoys jelly pouches. Not tinned food, not pâté. She also enjoys lamb in gravy. Not chicken or beef in gravy, only lamb. That’s the same lamb that makes the smallest one sick. Bowl segregation is required on days when lamb is served.

The male likes pâté. He is still growing and very active and needs a lot of food which explains why he is genuinely hungry a lot of the time. But he doesn’t like just any pâté, it has to be coarse and textured. But on the other hand, not too strongly flavoured. Chicken? Yes please. Game? No thank you. And definitely not that smooth stuff. He’s having none of that. Plus he also likes about two mouthfuls of everyone else’s food – food that he wouldn’t deign to touch if you put it in his own bowl.

The little one is so excited at having human and feline company he doesn’t know whether he wants to eat or play. He eats to live, he doesn’t live to eat like some.

The dance of humans and cats commences with hungry cats darting around while humans balance, flamingo-like, on one leg, whilst deciding whether it is safe to put down the other foot without standing on someone’s tail or paw. A safe negotiation of the garden path means it is time to dispense food. The nightmare scenario is the most impatient cat pacing, nipping and clawing at human arms while the pull tab breaks on the tin. But on a good day, everyone is very hungry. Everyone settles nicely at their own bowl (sometimes even on the ground, the no-feeding-where-the-food-is-put-out rule long banished), visiting cats eating in the drive (for the ones who wish they were in the garden but aren’t part of the family), the front path (for the ones who don’t get on with the ones in the drive), the top of the garden wall (for the ones who would be chased by the garden cats, should their paws touch the hallowed earth of garden).

Then after a few mouthfuls, initial hunger satiated, cats begin to get fussy. The Cat would like her food in her Special Box. Then she can pretend she’s having breakfast in bed, which in actual fact she is. She won’t eat any more under the olive tree, but will finish off exactly the same bowl of food in the Special Box, so long as you carry the dish over and put it in the box so she can sniff it and make her disdainful face at it and you, before eating it as soon as you disappear.

The male is still hungry but doesn’t know what he wants to eat, even if you do open every pouch and pâté and tin to try and tempt him. Eventually, after sampling everyone else’s bowl, and staring mournfully at the huge selection of food you have opened and placed before him, he sighs and huffs and stalks off down the garden to find the warmth of the early morning sun for a wash.

The little one might lap some gravy (so long as it has special kibble in it), he might just eat the special kibble on its own. He might want to eat it inside a pod. He might want to eat it on a wooden board down the garden. He might want to eat it on some garden netting. Then again he is fascinated by the bigger cats eating in the drive and wants to sit near them, staring as they work hungrily through their dish pausing only to hiss at him.

Faint and polite mewing comes from the garden wall. Someone fears they might have been overlooked. Leftover food is recycled between different cats, skittish feral cats are skirted around, water bowls refreshed – two different types of water, because it appears that the local cats are discerning and they don’t all like the same water. The current menu offers bottled water and fresh, clear well water – something for everyone. They vote with their tongues.

The male has had a nap and a wash and he’s hungry. Again. Very hungry. In fact he eats an entire pâté (of an acceptable flavour) and cleans the plate as if to say ‘see, I told you I was hungry’. The Cat is ready for her pudding of special kibble which must be placed on a particular piece of garden netting for it to be deemed acceptable. The little one is ready to play, pounce, eat some kibble, drink some water, run, jump, eat some kibble, drink some water, and play some more.

The visiting cats check each other’s bowls for tasty remnants and depart to the fields to wash and sleep the day away. All that is left is a pile of empty tins, pouches, foil lids and dirty dishes, but all cat carers know that empty wrappers mean full bellies – and that means success.