I don't know why I couldn't have kittens. It certainly wasn't due to a lack of mothering instinct. So I was delighted when they brought baby Tommy home. Of course I couldn't feed him myself, but I could care for him in other ways. He loved it when I jumped into his cot and snuggled against him – he'd press his little hand into my fur and make cooing noises. The adults didn't approve, however. I suppose they were jealous. They shouted and screamed, and chased me out of the room. But it was easy to sneak back.

They also behaved irrationally when I groomed Tommy. More yelling, and even attempts at violence, though I'm too fast for them. They made Tommy bawl his head off. He wanted me back, and so I obliged once the adults were out of the way.

As he grew older, my role changed to playmate and watchful companion. The adults seemed OK with this. I had expected Tommy to be scampering around, jumping and climbing, a few weeks after he was born, but instead he crawled laboriously on all fours for about a year. And then tottered rather than walked. But he did love his little tricycle, which he scooted around the garden.

He loved to explore. Very healthy, I felt, though the adults didn't seem so keen. One day, he pulled a bucket over to the garden gate, turned it upside down, climbed on it, and managed to undo the latch. Off he trundled on the trike, up the alley between our and the neighbour's houses, into the front garden. I followed.

After half an hour the mad barker from up the road trotted down the pavement. I enjoy taunting him by scooting up a tree in his garden and sneering down as he goes wild, trying to get to me. Strange how he reacts aggressively to almost everyone and everything. I prefer to play it cool. I avoid confrontation unless there's a real threat. I admit the rodents and birds I hunt might not see it like that, but with them there's no actual fighting.

This was the first time I'd seen the mad barker outside his home and alone. I'd thought he was unable to go anywhere without one of his humans, whom he treats as gods rather than the servants they really are. But there he was, outside our front garden. I was sitting in the bushes. He ignored me and focused on Tommy, who was scooting up and down the drive. He snarled, belted in and grabbed Tommy's sleeve in his nasty jaws. The poor kid starting screaming.

I shot over and saw the dog off. I calmed Tommy down and escorted him through the alley into the safety of the back garden. No harm done. Except to the mad barker, of course.

That evening, I was roused from a pleasant reverie by a tinny imitation of the mad barker snarling and yelping, accompanied by Tommy crying. The sounds came from my adult male human's computer. He became very excited, and beckoned the female to join him. The sounds were repeated again and again. The humans started jabbering at me and behaving strangely. I have no idea what was going on in their heads, but they gave me a load of cat treats.

People aren't always easy to understand.

30 May 2024