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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About 6 months after the episode with the noose, I got a ‘phone call at work one Thursday morning. It was Peter to say that he’d found Dulcie on his way to work, and it looked like she’d been hit by a car. I dropped everything grabbed my bag and keys and headed for the door. Fortunately my colleagues knew me well enough to understand the garbled message I muttered over my shoulder as I was leaving. When I got home Peter had managed to get Dulcie indoors and rung the vet to let him know we were on our way.

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It was Xmas 1990 and we had decided to get 2 kittens to replace our beloved Dan, who had died the previous May. I’d arranged to have a full 2 weeks off work to help them settle in, and we’d already been to the RSPCA and chosen them; a sleek black male and his fluffy, black and white sister. We had decided to call them Linus and Grover. Everything was in place for a wonderful Xmas.

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In the late summer of 1993, my sister’s neighbour found a tiny kitten wandering in the local churchyard. Too young to be out on its own, but unable to give it a home herself, I was asked if we would like an addition to our family.

I didn’t take much persuading, and that’s how we came to meet Dulcie. Tiny, orange, barely 4 weeks old, with blue eyes to die for. She fit quite comfortably into the palm of my hand, it was love at first sight.

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