The cats

The Rum Tum Tugger is a terrible bore:

When you let him in, then he wants to be out;

He’s always on the wrong side of every door,

And as soon as he’s at home, then he’d like to get about,

The Rum Tum Tugger from Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, T. S Elliot

Back in 1991 we moved to the UK from Ghana and decided that a cat would be good company for So Young as she had not really lived in England before. So we went to the Cat Protection League and picked a black, long haired kitten that we called Bradley (all the neighbours’ children were called posh names at the time and we were not going to be shown up). Within a week old softie (yep, me) had gone back and collected his twin brother whom we named Blakeley.

Unfortunately, Bradley died almost five years to the day later; we never found out what exactly killed him although we did find him and were able to give him a proper burial. Blakeley on the other hand lived to the grand old age of 13, a little more laid back by then, but still quite capable of bossing the other cats around the neighbourhood until the end. He eventually succumbed to Cushing’s disease in March, 2004, was cremated, carried back from Madrid and buried under a tree in Bramley, Hampshire, England.

He remains the most travelled cat we know, having lived in the UK, Singapore, Viet Nam, Thailand and Spain. He was certainly very popular with the security guards in Sai Gon, although he had to be kept in the compound as apparently black cats are highly prized for the potency they deliver when eaten... His favourite foods included croissants, brie, spicy sausages, vegetable chips from Pret-a-Manger and cream cheese. For some reason he wouldn’t eat salmon, choosy beggar.

In Singapore we decided to get a companion for Blakeley and found a beautiful peach coloured long haired female who, in keeping with the B tradition, became Brandy. Sadly Blakeley did not see the positive side of this and proceeded to beat her up at every opportunity. She was also a bit lacking in the smarts and would regularly go up on the roof above our seven storey apartment and then cry until we went and collected her. On one occasion, we were away and came back to find she had climbed up, jumped, missed and been buried by the gardener.

After a few years without a cat, we decided to adopt Kit Kat, whose South African owners were emigrating from the UK to Australia. He is certainly the craziest cat we have had. His favourite entertainment is to hunt on the dressing table for a hair band, which he then chases all around the place.