Missing in Action


Hamish has disappeared.

He was found lying behind the sofa, crying, and the Humans thought he was injured, and tried to catch him. Hamish hasn’t been caught since he was tricked into a crate to move down here six years ago. He struggled and ran away with such force that they couldn’t catch him, and he ran away over the neighbour’s wall. He didn’t look injured at all, but terrified.

The Humans felt dreadful, they said. They’d been worrying about Hamish for a while, as he seemed frightened to go out through the cat flap at night, and they knew a big ginger bully cat was prowling round outside. They wondered if Hamish was being terrorised.

The neighbours spotted him the next day, hiding in a wild area near their garden, but he ran away from them too, although they were bringing him food. The Humans were away, Him at work, and Her in Glasgow visiting her sister.

Five days later, She came home, and started calling and leaving food out for him every day near his last hiding place. She glimpsed him once, looking at her from a wall before he jumped down out of sight. That was the last anyone saw of him. He has been gone for 4 weeks now, and the Humans are sad. They feel bad for trying to catch him, when they knew that was what he feared most of all in life.

We might know more, or we might not. We say nothing. We are cats, after all.


(The Humans want to add that everyone in the area, including the animal organisations and the vets, have been informed; the chances that anyone could catch Hamish are slim to non-existent, as he always retained a strong feral element and only really trusted The Gardener on occasion. Behind the houses lies Exmoor, woodland and farmland, and it is easier to think of Hamish, originally found in a woodland estate up North, as having gone back to the woods by choice than sick, injured or worse.)




Yesterday, Rachel and The Gardener spotted this cat in a shop window in Bath.



Morning nap – on a black bear.


Afternoon nap – on a tiger.

Very fitting. Our synthetic bedding seems cheap in comparison.

But Rachel says bears and tigers don’t fit in the washing machine….


New Year’s Eve Party People

Not us. We prefer to sleep.

Or eat.

Note: You will have noticed that we are 2 cats short; Scooter is under the sofa; Hamish is behind the wardrobe; both state that it’s too late in the evening to have their photo taken. 

We let the dogs join us as a special treat.

Happy New Year 

to all our devoted admirers, you people of such good taste and discernment.

We’ll be back next year.