As we reach the long, dry days of summer, The Cat becomes more difficult to spot as her colouring blends so well with her surroundings. Regular resting places include beds of long, dried grass contoured to her bony frame, cool olive leaves, a favourite box, and the shade of the fruit trees. She is spending more time in the garden during the day, although her whereabouts after dark are a mystery.

Still a loner, she seeks no one out, although her female offspring (both adult now) still find comfort in their mamma’s company, especially when they’re unwell.

Living life on her terms, and hers alone, The Cat is as much of an enigma as ever. A law unto herself especially at feeding times, she leads the humans a merry dance insisting on having her bowl placed tantalisingly under her nose in at least four different places in the garden. The heady excitement of ‘will she? won’t she?’ spurs the humans on, together with the feeling of a job well done when the bowl is finally accepted and consumption of the contents commenced (usually just as washing up is finishing). Then there’s the feeling of abject failure when every conceivable combination of food is rejected, as The Cat stares wistfully into the distance before darting off as though someone has stuck a pin into her rump, off to today’s chosen place for her sleep. On an empty stomach. Hungry. In full knowledge that the humans know they have failed the test.

Point made.

Shall we do it all again later?