The Furries were born to The Cat in some long grass in the garden, one warm, sunny afternoon eighteen months ago. Their names were supposedly for identification purposes only, with more personal names based on their individual characters to follow. But they didn’t, and the Furries’ birthnames stuck – Whitefur, Greyfur and Blackfur, girl, boy, boy.

Whitefur was the most forward of the three, opening her eyes first, crawling first, scaling the humans’ legs first, her brothers content to lie lazily with Mamma, yawning and watching their sister having her mad moments while they planned their campaign to attach themselves surreptitiously, underneath Mamma, for a sneaky feed.

When they were four months old, two similarly-aged kittens (Stardust and Ariel) from a different mother (Kiwi) were introduced to the garden, their care having been handed over from Kiwi to the humans. Stardust was outgoing and soon joined in with the Furries, playing, fighting and adventuring together. Ariel kept herself to herself, a very different character.

A couple of months later, a foster kitten (Tiger) arrived following intense negotiation between his mother, Visitor Cat, and The Cat. Once again, Tiger’s outgoing personality helped him to integrate with the Furries and Visitor was soon living her independent life, back in the fields. The Furries’ family of playmates was growing.

So characters developed and the Furries became three quite distinct felines. Probably Mr Tiffin was the father of Whitefur and Greyfur, and it seemed very likely that Blackfur was the offspring of Longtail. They interacted as siblings do, sometimes revelling in each others’ company, sometimes tussling and fighting hard. Whitefur was feisty, an independent, sassy girl. Greyfur was the gentle giant, always happy to be close to The Cat, an even-tempered boy. Blackfur was more dominant, more like his dad who was working his way up the local feral alpha-male pecking order.

Eighteen months on from their birth and The Cat’s garden is still their base, although these days they all have their own things to do and places to be, out in the surrounding fields, returning for food and water, and rest and recuperation when necessary. And another generation shares The Cat’s garden. Cats move on, cats move in. The Cat remains implacably The Cat, and the Furries have younger siblings. But more of that another time.