We first met Jackson when he was about 4-5 years old in the summer of 1994. A full tom cat prowling round the neighbourhood with that regal confidence that cats seem to have. The trouble was, Jackson didn’t look like a king or a prince, he looked more like a compost heap!
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Having rescued Grover from the fridge and placed her safely in her basket, we turned our attentions to Linus. Peering down the hole with a torch, gave no indication of where he might be, other than under the kitchen units which we already knew. We tried calling and coaxing but no success. At one point I found myself lying face down on the floor with my arm fully stretched down the hole, right up to my shoulder, waving a piece of fresh fish, but not even this moved him. He must have been terrified, not to mention freezing cold.
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