Cats and boxes go together. Even the most staunchly feral cats just can’t help sitting in a box, and The Cat was no exception.

Maybe lying in a plant trough was a hint to her human carers to source some boxes for her if they wanted the plants to survive.

And so boxes arrived in The Cat’s garden, courtesy of our generous local greengrocer. Of course, The Cat immediately claimed them, climbing up them and inspecting them. Naturally she gravitated to the highest one from where she could survey her domain.

And from that day on, there was no looking back. Boxes, more boxes, boxes stacked on other boxes, towers of boxes, staircases of boxes – well, maybe not quite, but there were more boxes than one Matriarch could ever require, some with plastic netting in the bottom, some with folded shade cloth as a cushion (and obviously The Cat claimed the cushiest ones).

There were boxes for washing…

…boxes for napping…

…boxes for watching other cats in the garden…

…and there was even one big box with open sides (we named it The Fourposter), the perfect size for The Cat to dine alone, unbothered by other cats (apart from kittens who would jump in with her and cheekily nibble at her special food)…

..and a box on the terrace, strategically placed opposite the kitchen door where The Cat would be the first to know that dinner was on its way.

And in her later years, we strategically placed boxes in more sheltered spots for her, on the verandah or in the drive where she was out of the wind and rain, but could catch the sunshine on her fur.

No cat can resist a box, and The Cat was no exception.