I still put cat food out every night. The 2 original stray cats are now reduced to 1. He’s big, white and hairy, and a few weeks ago we decided he should at least have a name, and settled on Leonard.

Even though he’s been coming for years he’s still very timid, and I banished all ideas of adopting him long ago. Some nights he arrives so regularly you could set your watch by him, other times I won’t see him for days. Most nights the food is eaten, but if I don’t see him, I never really know by whom.

Last night was freezing cold with lying snow. The food had been out since teatime, un-touched. It was just approaching midnight and I was making my way to bed.

I flicked on the outside light which revealed a small tabby cat tucking into the food. Normally the light going on alarms or alerts any creature that might be there, but just like Hibbert 12 months ago, this little guy was far too interested in the food to notice.

I watched for several minutes, he/she never looked up once. As far as I could see he seemed in good condition. I tapped very gently on the window, he looked up but, unlike Hibbert, he was gone in an instant. I’ve rarely seen a cat react so quickly or move as fast.

Will we ever meet again? I don’t know, I certainly hope so. For the split second that our eyes met, I saw a cute face, and was struck by how small his head was. Adolescent or just a small cat, I don’t know.

I went to bed with a strong feeling of deja vu, and thoughts of Hibbert. Watch this space, but don’t hold your breath.

Not for the faint hearted I have to say, but quite spectacular if you make the effort. You can of course approach from a different direction, thus avoiding the climb, but that’s for wimps.

Every so often there is a bench so that those intrepid travelers, not in the first flush of youth, can catch their breaths, and that’s what I was doing.

Sat behind the bench, but above it and just out of reach, on the scrubby cliff face was a ginger cat with a blue collar. Eyes closed, relaxing in the sun of an Autumn afternoon.

No amount of effort by me, or any of the other passers-by could persuade him to move, or even open his eyes.

After a moment or two I heard the un-mistakable sound of a dog approaching. Looking back, I don’t actually know exactly what I heard, but whatever it was, the cat heard it too.

For a split second I saw alarm on his face, but this soon changed when he realised the dog was on a lead, perfectly well behaved, and no threat to his sunbathing.

His face took on an expression that can only be described as sheer contempt. In fact if looks could kill, the dog would have dropped where it stood, and been dead before it hit the ground.  Yes, it was that bad, and all done without disturbing his sunbathing position.

In short I have never in my life seen a cat with such an expressive face. You were in no doubt as to  exactly what he was thinking.

Later on the same day we came upon another cat. White with green eyes, and he was very different. Friendly, affectionate and purring. Don’t you just love cats, and their different personalities.

How nice it is to be a cat at the seaside.

We think of him a lot and often try to work out what happened to him, going over the smallest details of our time together trying to make some sense of it.

The obvious, and rather upsetting conclusion is that he was injured or killed and could not make it home. I’ve fed strays in the past who have made it home after accidents and believe me none of them resulted in a happy ending even though they got home.

First there was Thompson, then Marney and more recently Oliver. All had been hit by cars and were terribly injured, but we (and the vet) were unable to save them.

However,  during the course of our Hibbert wonderings we came up with a less upsetting, rather obscure, but perfectly plausible idea. It’s a bit complicated to explain succinctly but I’ll have a go.

Hibbert first came to our attention in January. When I asked around the neighbours at the time everyone had seen him, but no-one knew where he had come from.

Just before Xmas the pub at the end of the lane had changed hands. We never met the people who moved in and knew nothing about them.

Conversations with neighbours since Hibberts disappearance reveal that the publican “had cats”. Indeed I have seen a black cat with white feet and a ginger tabby in our garden who both headed off in the direction of the pub when startled. I’ve even seen Hibbert chasing them off in that direction.

It just so happened that the weekend of Hibbert’s disappearance the pub changed hands again. What if he was their cat after all, and he has simply moved away with them? I certainly haven’t seen the other 2 cats since the publican left.

I find this idea quite hard to believe on several levels, but it could just be possible.

I’ve never seen Hibbert heading to or from the direction of the pub, except when he was chasing the other cat.

He was always hungry, in fact in the early days he acted as if he was starving. I’ve never seen a cat so frantic about food.

During winter he slept in my neighbours stable which is quite near the pub. If he was theirs why did he not sleep around the pub or its outbuildings.

He spent hours in and around our house, playing in the garden or just sitting with us on the bench, which incidentally is overlooked by one of the pubs upstairs windows. Wouldn’t they have noticed this and said something to us?

The bottom line is you could just about make a case for him belonging to the publican because of the timing of his arrival and disappearance. It certainly makes his absence easier to bear knowing he could be safe somewhere.

Right from the first day Peter said Hibbert must have another home besides us, if it turns out he was right (and he usually is) it just re-inforces my belief that cats are opportunists, who know when they’re on to a good thing.

For 6 months I fed him, loved him, played with him, tended his wounds and gave him worm tablets. Part of me feels that he played me like a fiddle and I feel a bit of a mug.

The other part of me knows I’m simply a cat lover.

I wasn’t unduly concerned on Monday morning when he didn’t show, but when he hadn’t appeared by teatime I was worried.

I’ve walked all around the garden calling his name, and wandered up the lane shaking his cat biscuits. Normally this would bring him running at top speed, but not this time.

I’ve spoken to a couple of neighbours, but they haven’t seen him either, so I’m fearing the worst.

I just hope he’s found someone else to look after him, just like he found us 6 months ago.

I say ‘road sense’, I haven’t actually seen him on the road apart from the day when we almost lost him. I suppose what I really mean is ‘car sense’.

All our other cats have had a healthy respect for a motor vehicle. Even Dulcie, who was hit with a car twice in her life, knew that when I went into the garage,  got in the car and started the engine, it was time to move. Hibbert has no such opinions.

He views the open garage door as a challenge, an adventure. No harm in that as long as he knows when to get out. Sadly he doesn’t. Shouting, waving, starting the engine have no effect.

When he does finally stroll out his latest trick is to lie down directly behind the car, just where I can’t see him. Tooting the horn has no effect either. Getting the car out is now a 2 person job.

Guided by Peter I gradually reverse the car out of the garage. Hibbert stays put until the car is almost upon him. Peter says he waits until the rear wheels are just a couple of feet from him.

What’s that about? For me it’s nerve wracking. For Peter it’s a nuisance. For Hibbert it could prove fatal, but I have no idea how to stop him doing it.

The only thing I can come up with is to plan ahead. Make sure he’s hungry before our journey and just as we’re ready to leave, feed him in the conservatory. Sounds easy, but with a cat and a husband to organise, not necessarily as simple as it sounds.

It was not unusual to see them after tea walking up the lane with the 2 children and the dog, and trotting along behind was Cookie.

As much as this was amusing to watch, it always made me uneasy. Our cats would never follow us further than the boundaries of our land. Dulcie occasionally thought about coming further, but I was always relieved when she decided to go back to the safety of the garden. Let’s face it, she didn’t have a great track record where roads were concerned.

As life long cat owners we’ve come to the conclusion that cats have a kind of mental ball of string in their heads that they unravel when they go out. This helps them not to get lost. If they stay hold of the string they find their way back home, stretch it too far or let go, and they don’t.

On Thursday evening we decided to go for a walk after tea. Hibbert had been asleep on the landing all afternoon, and as we don’t leave him in unattended I coaxed him to the conservatory with his supper, the idea being we would slip out of the gate whilst he was eating.

Surprisingly he wasn’t hungry and arrived at the gate before we did. As we set off up the lane he followed. We kept thinking he would get bored or scared and go back home, but he didn’t. He just kept on walking with us.

To be honest I was very uneasy at the prospect of him accompanying us all the way. For me it would have turned a relaxing stroll into a stressful one.

After a little while we got to one of our neighbours houses. She has a yappy little dog and once it started barking at us through the fence, Hibbert was going no further.

He positioned himself in the gateway of a field and watched us walk away. At the time I thought things would be OK, and that he would just turn round  go home and be waiting for us in the garden on our return. Peter on the other hand thought we may have come too far and that he may have let go of his string.

When we got home at around 7.15 pm he was nowhere too be seen, and we didn’t see him for the rest of the night. By the time I went to bed I was getting worried about him.

Next morning I was up at 7am and when he was still nowhere to be seen I went straight out looking for him, but no joy.

By the time Peter got up I was really worried, so at about 11am we set off up the lane again looking for him. To be honest, I didn’t think for a moment we would find him. Let’s face it he could be miles away. Cats, as I’ve said before, are opportunists and he could be well on the way to finding himself a new home by now. After all that’s how he’d found us.

If a cat disappears of it’s own accord , you never know if it is injured or has been hit by a car. In this case we knew he hadn’t been, so it wasn’t so much that I was worried for his safety, I was actually feeling guilty that we had caused him to become lost again. Frankly we should have known better, and that is why I was kicking myself.

So there we are strolling up the lane feeling pretty bad about things. As we approach the house with the yappy dog we stop in the gateway to the field. I was just about to say “This is where we left him” when his head popped up and he came running towards us.

Miracle of miracles we had found him not 10 feet from where we had last seen him. He had spent 16 hours in a field of oil seed rape!

I picked him up and we set off home. When we were almost there I set him down and he walked happily with us up to and through the gate. We gave him some food and then he spent the next 8 hours asleep on the landing, breaking off only occasionally to make sure we were still there.

I’m pleased to say normal service has been resumed. How lucky is that!

He gently prodded it with his out-stretched paw thus keeping as far away as possible, ready to leap backwards should it decide to retaliate. When it didn’t he just gave it a quick smell and moved on.

We’ve settled into a steady routine now. Most afternoons he spends asleep on the landing. We keep the door open for him, but otherwise leave him be.

He’s very affectionate most of the time and is quite happy to sit on my knee. Sometimes I spoil things by touching his feet. It’s something I’ve always done, I find holding or stroking a cats foot very relaxing, but Hibbert doesn’t like it.

What he does like is his chin rubbing or his ears scratched, in fact he likes that a lot. He purrs all be-it quietly, but I can feel the vibration in his throat, so I think we’re getting there, as long as I leave his feet alone!

The other day I noticed he had a tapeworm segment at the base of his tail, so out came the worming tablets. I was hopeful that his love of food would help me administer the medication easily.

Sure enough the first half tablet went down like a dream wrapped in a small ball of salmon paste. Sadly the second half didn’t!

This left me no option but to do it the hard way. I say ‘hard way’, in actual fact I had successfully given Linus tablets every day for the last 3 years of his life, so at least I had some experience, but Hibbert is a different animal. Younger, fitter and still unpredictable at times.

In fact I was surprised at how easy it was, he didn’t struggle at all, but unless I got a direct hit straight down the back of his throat they tended to pop back out. He also had the ability to swallow them and then puke them out a few minutes later when he thought I wasn’t looking.

Anyway I managed in the end, and so far all signs of tapeworms have disappeared. Then I discovered he had a tick attached to his left ear. Creamer had suffered from these from time to time and the best action is to take no action and allow them to fall off naturally. So that is what I’ll do.

In the 3 months that Hibbert has been with us we’ve had 2 limps, 2 abscesses, tapeworms and a tick. Could it be that Hibbert is a walking disaster?

Never mind, even if he is, he can stay as long as he likes.

After many long discussions we’ve come up with Bert, short for Hibbert. Don’t ask where it came from, it was just one of Peter’s inspired suggestions. So there we are.

Bert gave us a scare last week. All of a sudden, or so it seemed at the time, he lost his appetite. When I say ‘lost his apetite’ I mean it went completely. He wouldn’t eat anything and I was beginning to get concerned. Especially given the size of his appetite normally. This was very out of character.

To cut a long story short, it seems he had an abscess on his back. We didn’t know this until it burst. Once it had done he seemed much better and I’m pleased to report his appetite is back in full and his energy and enthusiasm have returned. Normal service has been resumed.

Looking back I think it would be fair to say he had been working up to it for a day or two. The truth is we’re still getting to know each other and I just missed the signs he was giving me.

At night I put his food in the conservatory. I use it like a greenhouse but the door doesn’t shut properly, so Bert can come and go as he pleases, which suits us both.

A couple of nights ago the big hairy stray, who has been coming for years, and who is terrified of people, got in by mistake and couldn’t get out. We heard a commotion whilst we were watching TV.  Fortunately Bert wasn’t in there at the  time. The stray must have gone in for the food despite the fact that I’ve been  leaving his food by the back door for years.

I went out to release him, but as soon as he saw me he panicked and just ran riot. My plants went in all directions. As soon as the door was opened he charged out. I hope he won’t be doing that again.

Today I was working in the conservatory putting strings up to support my tomatoes. Bert was helping me by chasing the strings and having a thoroughly good time.

You know when a cat is stalking  a mouse they do that sort of high pounce. Well Bert did it to my string, but forgot he was sitting under a chair at the time and banged his head quite hard.

You should have seen the look he gave me. I’m sure he thought I had done it to him. He went outside after that to re-group, but it didn’t take him too long to come round.

I think Bert is going to provide lots of stories in the weeks and years to come. Watch this space. Bring it on.

Basically he comes and goes as he pleases, and I am on hand to provide food, water and attention whenever he demands it. Sound familiar?!

Last week a lady called round to see if he was hers. She’d heard on the grapevine that I’d found a black and white cat. Actually he’s grey tabby and white, but must have  changed colour in some kind of feline version of ‘chinese whispers’.

As soon as she saw him she knew he wasn’t hers, but we had a nice long chat and she went on her way. Her cat had disappeared over 12 months ago. I admired her devotion, and was sorry I couldn’t help. Having said that she still had another 11 cats to go home to!

Sometimes I don’t see him all day, and start to worry, other days he’s here all the time. Sometimes he spends the night in the conservatory, sometimes he doesn’t.

I love gardening and Dulcie always used to help me as I went around weeding etc. My new friend soon gets bored and when he’s had enough just disappears without a word, until he’s hungry.

Cats. Don’t you just love ‘em!

They have all taken a passing interest in human food, but apart from things like chicken, milk and fish, most things were of no interest to them once they had been properly investigated.

However, this new kid on the block takes food to a completely new level.

In the early days his eating was quite simply frantic. After the first couple of meals I was worried he’d make himself sick gobbling like that, so fed him in smaller portions. He appeared desperate for food. I can’t put into words how excitable he became at the sight of a food bowl or the sound of a box of biscuits.

Fortunately this frenetic feeding style has calmed down, or at least I thought it had.

A few mornings ago he arrived early, before I had eaten my own breakfast, so I fed him and then got a bowl of cereal for myself. Due to a health issue I use soya instead of milk, but obviously this isn’t immediately apparent to a cat.

As soon as I started to eat he was all over me trying to get his head in my bowl. I somehow managed to finish eating and offered him the dregs of soya fully expecting him to recoil from it when he discovered it wasn’t milk.

To my surprise he lapped it up excitedly and then wanted more! Soya isn’t good for cats, so he didn’t get more and won’t be getting more in the future. I didn’t think too much about this  incident until yesterday.

It had been a beautiful day, sunny and quite mild for the time of year. I’d been busy all day, and at about 3pm decided to have my afternoon cuppa sat in the garden. This daily ritual involves a big cup of tea made with soya and a bar of chocolate. Yesterday it was a Twix.

Once again he was all over me trying to get at my afternoon treats. It really was quite hard work fending him off. Not long after I was just too late to stop him catching a mouse, which he proceeded to eat, leaving only the heart and liver behind in a neat little pile.

I like all animals so it’s at times like this I wish I didn’t love cats so much.

He’s also learnt how to get into the conservatory and often goes to sleep curled up in the wheelbarrow which I store in there during winter.

I’ve spoken to my neighbours and the post man, but no-one knows where he has come from. Apparently he also sleeps in one neighbours stable and anothers hay store.

Cats are opportunists and survivers and this little guy is proof of that.