Ana was now a mature cat and a very real contender in the local alpha-male stakes. He was expanding his territory, patrolling the fields, assiduously marking his boundary as he went, on both sides of the road and as far as the culvert which marked the start of the next village.

Some mornings he would turn up for breakfast caked in cement, sometimes with daubed with green or blue paint, sometime with oil in his fur. Heaven knows where he had been overnight, how far he had roamed, whether a dab of engine oil behind each ear was indeed his secret weapon when it came to attracting the ladies of the neighbourhood.

Other male cats were visiting the garden, usually when Ana was away on patrol as he was happy to defend The Cat’s Garden and his mother from all comers, and he was a force to be reckoned with.

As Ana’s reputation grew, so did his name. He was now Ana, Warrior Cat, King of the Culvert, but he still came home to his mother whenever he could.