The Cat’s young daughter Sprocket felt much the same about plant pots as her mother did about boxes. Neither Ratchet nor Pedal, Sprocket’s littermates, seemed to have the same affinity with plant pots, and so Sprocket had free rein to curl up in whichever ones she chose. And she did. Again and again.

Sprocket started as a small kitten, sitting in plant pots on the windowsill in the drive. Sometimes Ratchet joined her sister, and sometimes Pedal did too, but they were more interested in knocking the pots over and playing in the soil.

During the hot summer months, napping in a plant pot was a clever move as the soil was damp and bound to be cooler than lying on the tiles. It seemed there was method in Sprocket’s madness, especially as there were no spines on this cactus at ground level.

As the kittens grew and followed their mother over the wall and down the olive tree into the garden, Sprocket discovered a new plant pot, this time a tub containing a soon-to-be-ex- chilli plant. It was too good an opportunity to miss.

Now moving independently between the garden, the drive and the fields, the kittens came and went as they pleased. Sprocket was delighted to find another chilli plant, this time in the drive, which had a lovely leafy canopy for added shade.

The next leafy victim was unidentified but robust. By this point, Sprocket knew no fear when it came to plant pots. They were all her property, whether there was anything growing in them or not.

As the weeks passed and Sprocket grew bigger, she was surprised to find that some of the plant pots which had been quite comfortable a few weeks ago were suddenly becoming a bit of a tight fit.

Some of the plants survived, and some didn’t but it didn’t matter. The humans had long since stopped worrying about plant and plant pots, many of which were destined for the ground. It was all part of life with feral cats, and it was their drive and garden as much as ours.