Relief in the Newton household as Arthur’s back and resting, Rocky style, on Katharine’s big fluffy dressing gown. I did the little feller a disservice by suggesting he’d gone of his own volition. In truth he accepted his Christmas incarceration at the cattery with good grace, but it was easier to adopt that theory than assume a fatal accident.
It turned out he spent four days stuck in the roof space of a neighbour’s shed. Nobody can see how he got in, and that must include Arthur himself as he clearly couldn’t retrace his steps out again. I was forced to smash through some plasterboard to get to a traumatised but physically unharmed cat. Fed and watered, the experience has left him particularly clingy, but that will wear off.
Anyway. It turns out that he’s fairly well known as having just three legs tends to mark him out and we received a number of messages of support, which is nice. We’d always suspected he’d adopted a granny from the nearby sheltered housing and now know her name. I always thought he was a bit of a wimp, but not so. He’s happy to bully and steal food from cats across the way. Oh well. And he’s quite good at killing squirrels which isn’t very nice, but I’ve never expected to see eye-to-eye with him on hunting.