Monty the best cat in the world

Monty the best cat in the world(Kevin Markey) Copyright © 2009 Kevin Markey

THE BEST CAT IN THE WORLD
MONTY

On a mild December evening
came into our lives
full of joy
And on a cold November morning
Departed from this world
A life of love
Monty Monty Monty
Making friends through it
You were truly
The best there ever was
No one could love you
No one could love you
No one could love you
More than I do
No one was loved more
No one was loved more
No one was loved
More than you were
"My name is Monty and I'm a pussy cat"
"I sneak up on Kevin's Bed cause I like that"

Some one, somewhere, who knows where? Probable a Gloucestershire cat breeder. Their female produced a litter. soon they were all to become house trained, and sold as pets, except one! They couldn't get rid of.
December 20th 0r 22nd 1986 I can't recall the exact date. A typical December night cold. A car pulls stops at a busy junction. The main Dursley to Cam road, Woodfield Road forms the junction, across the road Summerhayes estate to the right Tilsdown and Woodfield on the left. On one corner, number six. A kitten barely six months old is dumped out of the car, it's a mild night but it's on his own now to survive on its wit's. The car speeds off to who knows where? No one knows except the driver. Someone probable can answer that question for he or she missed out on the Best Cat in the world.

First Night
There was something different about that December night. The stars were out, brighter than they had been for some weeks. I suppose the turning point had been reached when the days got longer. It was probable nine o'clock, I parked my Metro in a garage I rented less than five minutes walk from my home. I proceeded down the road known as Norman Hill and then turned left towards the pedestrian crossing where when the lights turned red I would hurriedly cross the silent road. In next to no time I was climbing the six or seven steps to our garden. To my right was number four as these steps were shared. At the top on our end of the garden is a row of conifers, (Xmas trees). Cats loved them for they could hide under their thick bushes. As the cars whizzed down Woodfield road they could watch, or just shelter from the rain.
Tonight I could hear the gentle meow and as my head turned I saw a black kitten, its white patches barely visible. I stopped, to stroke it, soon I realised what had happened, for in a few days' Christmas was upon us. At Xmas people abandon more pets than any other time of the year. I didn't know what to do, for I had no idea how my parents would react. Had I known then, what I know now, he would have been adopted straight away. Even at this tender age he had a way of bring the best out in people. In the words of the song "to know him was to love him" and we did.
As I continued my journey to the house not knowing what to do, He followed all the way. Unsure I let him in the conservatory at the side of the house. First I searched for some milk and a saucer to give him for he was thirsty. What food could I give him? I had no idea, but it turns out my parents had provided milk and bread already. Like most people in the circumstances I hoped after his drink I could turf him out and he would go away, of course life doesn't work out like that. Eventually I placed him outside in the cold night, I hated myself for doing it but what else could I do. He didn't go far and hung around all night.
Mum and Dad had been out that night, when they returned they commented about the kitten. He had already gone next door to number eight but as they already had one cat his charm had failed at least temporarily. My parents did provide a box for him, placing it carefully on top of a dustbin, which was situated at the back of the house. He spent the whole night in it for it must have been warm compared to the chill of the night. Realising his luck was in next morning he would still be there.
We all asked our self questions. Was he a stray? had he run away from home? Was he lost? But I think we all new he was an unwanted pet that someone got rid of him.

First day

I couldn't get home from work quick enough on that first day. Lloyds Bank in Wotton Under Edge was seven miles away, as normal it took me about twenty minutes to drive. Excited as I was, I did not rush, despite looking forward to reviewing my acquaintance with our unexpected guest. Disappointed! No we were not, for the first thing I asked upon returning home was where the cat was? Monty as he was soon to become known had been around but disappeared, he was soon to return, he must realise he was on to a good thing.
For the first time he was allowed into the house with all present, my parents and two younger brothers' Shaun and Gareth. Dad was resistant but soon realised he was in a minority of one. He cursed Monty later for his visits to the garden, scratching his seeds and doing his business. Dad learnt to accept it. Monty also learnt were to go and were not too. As we all watched television that night in our front room, he moved from one lap to another. Slowly he was winning our affection. I offered my hand; he would lick this with his rough tongue. Monty carried this on for a life time, it was a certain winner. The only annoying part was once sitting on your lap; you could never get up again.
Monty we soon learnt was house trained; this was a good thing as it saved us some difficult training. In the early days a few unwanted deposits were discovered, but most of the time Monty was a clean and obedient kitten. We arranged for him to sleep in the conservatory that night, providing a box for him to sleep in. This was placed on a chair so he could look out the window. Monty seemed to understand this was for him, that night he jumped into this without any problem.
Next morning we were up early keen as ever to see our guest. He returned the compliment although now we let him out more he started to go out exploring the locality. Soon he was to become a brave and fearless animal and even from the start he was never timid. It was perhaps this nature excitable, a cheeky grin on his face for a kitten full of life and energy.

Early Memories
We advertised locally but no one came forward over a missing kitten. It was only later that we discovered that it was a he. The first thing that my parents decided to have done was to sterilise him. The vet informed us he was about six months old.
Deciding a name was always going to be difficult. I wanted to name him after a famous footballer but Kenny didn't seem appropriate, I was never sure what others had in mind.
The eldest lad of the couple living at number eight referred to him as Montgomery that I always assumed was after the war hero. Often when he was around we could hear "Montgomery" being called. Somehow the name stuck although it was shortened to Monty.
At night when we called him in, the sound of "Monty Monty Monty" would fill the night air. He soon got use to it, realising it was his name. Sometimes he would rush back in eager anticipation of food, love and attention. When he was not so keen he would amble back, other occasions he would be plain awkward playing games of chase me. He was impossible to catch when he was in this mood.
Chasing balls and knocking objects was something Monty enjoyed more than other cats I've known. Yes they like balls of string to chase and even keys but he was almost like a dog when chasing after a ball. His teeth were razor sharp; a flimsy object would suffer in his mouth. How easily it would be torn to shreds beneath his razor sharp teeth. On the patio at the back of the house I would throw a bouncy ball against the side of our garage. It would bounce against the wall, then on the patio once or maybe twice. Monty would chase after it like a dog. Using his front paw he would control it and dribble with it, better than Georgie Best. Other times he could catch between his paws, clinging to his claws he reminded me of Ray Clemence at his best.
Biting was another of his favourite pass times. I would often play with him at night; he was lying on my bed while I would tickle his tummy. Cunningly he would grab my arm, licking it gently at first until he got a good grip of my hand. To him it was only playing after all that was what I was doing. It could be painful as his sharp teeth dug into my hand the grip was almost impossible to get out of. The marks on my hand although small and faint were visible for days after.
One of my earliest memories of Monty was one day when he was out; I was walking up our road to post a letter. About four houses up number fourteen was being redeveloped. Now it consists of two houses but on that day it was just garden. As I walked by, Monty was around looking toward the path, I stopped expecting him not to recognise me. I was wrong for he poked his head through the gate as if to ask me to stoke it. It pleased me for many years that even away from his home he new and recognised his friends.

The other memory occurred in the Spring or summer of his first year with us. It was a Sunday afternoon; Gareth and I were lazing about probable watching television. Mum who was probable putting washing on the line came to call us.” Come out here and see this she said" not knowing why, we both did. "Look over there" she said pointing in the direction of a large tree growing the back garden of number two. We both looked up high and into the distance. It was a massive tree taller than your average house. The sky was clear blue that day with only white clouds to spoil the view. At the very top we could see a black and white cat. He could see us even at that distance he knew were he lived and recognised the little people watching him. He was proud as punch up in the clouds, The expression on his face said, and look at me. It was a grin and he was clearly showing off.
Why did he go up? Who knows, he was probable chasing a bird. Whatever the reason it was brave, strangely however we never saw him up that tree again. Perhaps this was his one moment of glory. The tree still stands as if to testify to the occasion.

Xmas
December the twentyfifth, Christmas to you and me. To Monty it was like any other day of the year, except with Turkey! He would wake up early and wait for someone to let him out, then off he would go on his morning stroll. Sometimes he would be away for half an hour other times it would be two or three hours before we saw him again.
Christmas being in the cold winter months he tended to come back quickly, returning to the conservatory, maybe finding a chair or even bed to lie on. He would sleep for a few hours.
Around one o'clock we would gather round the table for our Turkey lunch, amazingly this would be the time Monty would wake from his snooze. In his dish we would provide him with some crunches and perhaps turkey flavoured cat food. Not satisfied with that he would come on a vacant chair or my lap. Placing his two front paws on the edge of the table he would stretch up to see what we were eating. The sprouts and roast potatoes were never of interest but the Turkey and gravy looked delicious. He was always good as gold however never touching any food unless it was clearly for him. It was clearly understood he would never jump on the table while we were eating although often would during the day. After lunch mum would cut some Turkey off the bird and place it on his own dish. Monty loved this and often demanded more, his chubby little face was full of delight. Monty loved his gravy too, we would invite him on the table to lick our plates or place it by his dish. To Monty this was turkey flavoured; milk and he lapped it up licking his lips at the end. The dishes were often cleaner than if we had washed them ourselves.
Often after unwrapping our presents we would leave the wrappings on the floor in the front room. Monty wasn't allowed in there at first, but later in his life he sneaked in. I thought he would love playing among the left wrappers like a baby in his element. Surprisingly this was not true. In to the room he would stroll and gingerly walk amongst the mess. He always looked before he would tread on anything, carefully testing the ground to ensure it would take his weight. Obstacles were for jumping over. Finally he would reach the settee or empty chair, jump and curl up before going to sleep. We would ignore him or occasionally some one would stoke him, mostly we however were watching the TV or resting.
The first Christmas after he passed away was sad. It was not long since he had died and outside the conservatory was his grave marked by four posts and a cross I had made. Somehow life was never the same; we all missed him although it did mean there was more Turkey for us.

Previous Pets
To be honest there was only two pets that stood out before Monty. Bobby and Charlie were two Budgies who we owned from our Hilltop View days. Bobby the elder of the two, actually visited Six Woodfield Road long before we moved. That was on the only occasion when he escaped. Mum chased him with a butterfly net eventually capturing him in it. It was a surprise that he should escape for he was the more friendly of the two. Whenever a hand was placed in the cage he would jump on it. Charlie was different he would turn away, refusing to even look at you. He was also the most aggressive.
From memory Bobby was a predominately Yellow coloured chap wise and friendly. He was easy going while Charlie was green. A dull colour than the cheerful Bobby this reflected in their different personalities.
Charlie was mine I saved up my pocket money for a year to purchase him as a companion to Bobby. It was I who chose him from an Avery in the house directly backing on to us at Hilltop View. He was a year younger than Bobby and when it came to passing away the gap between them was not much more than a year. Bobby and Charlie are buried side by side on our side lawn. The exact spot is not marked.
During Bobby's last day's Charlie cared for him, Bobby struggled to eat the seed in the cage so Charlie regurgitated it for him to digest. It was good to see they remained friends and loved each other. Charlie understood when Bobby fell to the floor. The death of Charlie was more of a shock, although with Bobby gone it was not totally unexpected, but we did not notice a decline in the same way.
It was sad but Gareth came home one day probable from school to discover him on the floor of the cage expired. This was a shock to us all but we got over it.
Although it would be good for the three to meet each other, but they would never get on. Monty always chased birds and when captured their time was up, Bobby and Charlie would have to stay in their cage always.

Monty and Friends
During his short life Monty made many friends both human and cat, though I know of no bird that loved him. His first friends other than ourselves must be our neighbours at number eight. The James family (or gang as they sometimes referred to themselves) were an average family with two kids (one of each) and one cat. Monty used to sneak in the house and steal the food. I can't remember the cats name but me, I know she didn't like it although she never sought revenge.
She died in a fire in about nineteen eighty seven. Monty never seemed to miss her.
One of my earliest memories of Monty and his friends was when he was about one year old. I was home during the day on Holiday. Every one was at work and Monty had gone out. During the morning I was looking out towards our back garden, from our kitchen we could see most of it except for the part obstructed by the garage. It was a sunny day and I saw Monty trotting down the garden path that divided two long patches of garden. With him were two of the most beautiful Persian cats, I had seen. They followed Monty as if he was their leader. It appeared as if he had invited them back to his place. Boldly Monty strolled into our conservatory lapping up the milk on his dish and the rabbit dinner. He was bold as brass showing off to his new found friends. They however were not so courageous and just waited a short distance away. From this safe position they could watch their new friend, if trouble arose they could escape easily. Being friendly to a pussy cat was easy especially when there are two of you but a human, well that's a different kettle of fish. I did try to tempt them with all the cunning at my disposal but they would not come to me. Eventually they moved away and sadly I never saw them again.
Though Monty would never admit to it his best friend was Bimbo a cuddly all black cat who moved in next door at number four. Bimbo was a year younger than Monty but the two of them grew up together. We often allowed Bimbo into our house feeling sorry for him as they did not always seem interested in him. I remember once Monty reciprocating the arrangement by climbing on next doors' roof and heading towards the window. I witnessed for my self the lady of the house opening the window and calling to Monty. He waited on the roof not sure weather to proceed further or not. In the end he decided against it. That was one more friend to Monty.
His other friend was Ginger who was about three years younger than Monty. Ginger and his sister Titch ( a small thing who was probable the runt of the litter) moved into number eight, about three months after they lost their first cat. Neither of these two drink milk. They are permitted water only which is unusual for any cat. Even now she is four years old Titch continues to be a tiny cat. Ginger as you can imagine was exactly that all over. He was much friendlier than his sister who was very stand offish. Like Bimbo before him Ginger was granted the freedom of number six, something that Monty despised. With Monty it was this is my house, like a marriage what's yours is mine and what's mine is my own. Titch fancied Monty, for a couple of months. Monty was having none of it, girls are a nuisance.
Even to this day Ginger is friendly. He always comes up to me, when he first sees me of a day rubbing against me, this is his way of saying hello. Some stories of Monty with Ginger and Bimbo, the scrapes and fights they got up to will follow in a later chapter.
On Tuesday 9th May 2006 I received news I had feared and expected. Ginger died that morning he had been unwell for a long time and I expected this to be his last summer. A few days earlier I had seen him for the last time friendly as ever he came up to me. I invited him in to number six and mum gave him some food. I left soon after the last time I was to see Ginger.

Ginger died 9th May 2006 RIP


Monty's injured leg
Monty used to go out a lot more as he got older, he wanted the adventure and of course we were not about during the day. At the weekend, when we were usually about he didn't disappear for long periods. On hot summer day's he would lie either on the patio or his favourite spot on the front lawn. In the middle a brown patch developed where Monty often sat. At the front of our lawn is a row of about ten trees on especially hot days Monty would sit in the shade under the thick branches. From there, he could see the road and all the traffic that went by. We can only imagine he was recalling the day he arrived. He could also look towards the house, sometimes we would stare out at him and he would respond. Suddenly he would decide he wanted to come in, he darted out from under the trees towards the front door that we would open for him.
Along the side of the house is a wooden fence that divides the gardens of number four and six. This was another favourite spot of Monty's. I rarely saw him jump up, but he was well capable of reaching it's height in one leap. Once on top he would carefully tread along it one paw at a time just like a tight rope walker. From here he could see the front and back door and every one, walking up the side of the house. If we wanted to call him in, if he was there, he would leap down long before anyone started calling him. Some night's I walked up the steps and along this fence I would always go to him and beckon him to me. "Come on Monty" I said however he was always the independent pussy moving further along the fence and jumping off rather than jumping into my welcoming arms.
During the many hot summer days that seem to become a norm from time to time, we used to open all the windows both upstairs and down. Monty had the freedom of the house by now and sought out a quiet spot to rest his tired head. This would often be in my parent's bedroom he would jump up on their great big double bed stretch out and yawns, an enormous yawn. Sometimes we would play with him, tickle his tummy, if he got fed up he would jump off the bed and leave. His other trick was to become angry and viscous. His tail would wag, he growled like a dog and his sharp teeth would dig into flesh. We knew this was the point to leave, even patient stroking of his head did little to cool his anger.
This allowed Monty to curl up and sleep for many hours. One fault that humans have which Monty shared was he snored. Fortunately for those like myself, who allowed him to sleep on their bed he was not very loud, or frequent snorer.
My parent bedroom is situated towards the back righthand side of the house. There are two windows situated, in the front and back. From the back window the garden can easily be seen. Behind us was a row of houses on an adjoining estate. Many years before Monty's arrival a conservatory had been built from the kitchen to the side garden. This was situated directly below the back window. When this window was open, the roof of the conservatory was easily reached, especially by a pussy cat eager for a quick escape root. Further more at the far end of the conservatory another roof was only a short jump away. This was the out house, a kind of extension at the back of the house for food etc. Monty proved how easy it was to reach.
On many occasions’ he would escape through the open window, we would spot him before he jumped off. The first time he was a little scared, he was only a little pussy cat and it looked a long way to jump. Even the raise patio only a foot or so away from the edge of the house was a frightening leap. We would try to coax him back into the window or climb up a chair or ladder. Ever the independent cat Monty would move to another part of the roof continuing to jump from the conservatory roof to the outhouse. Eventually when he felt brave (also when we were fed up with his game of chase) Monty would jump off and in one movement without stopping would run away. We could never catch him even if we tried unless he wanted us to.
One night he decided to stay away all night refusing to answer our calls. This worried mum understandable however Dad, my brothers and I realised there was nothing we could do, so just let Monty get on with it. The conservatory window was left open so he could get in for food and sleep in the box we made for him. Whether he did or not, we will never know. I only know that he was spotted by mum (the first person to get up next morning) running about outside. She gave him a telling off which he ignored before running away again. Monty enjoyed his night on the tiles although fortunately he did not have too many. Not sure if the female felines enjoyed his company but I’m sure he was as popular with them as his human friends.
One day Monty's expeditions nearly had dire consequences. He was hurt so badly, that he was almost put to sleep. Again we don't know where he had gone but early one morning around ten or ten thirty he literally crawled on three legs struggling into the conservatory. Dad was home, fortunately, for Monty had broken his back right leg. He could have been hit by a stone thrown by a local yob or hit by a car we can only guess, like many an incident in Monty's life. Lucky to be alive, we rushed Monty into the vets, where he was kept in for a few days. When Monty returned home, a splint was stuck up his leg to strengthen it. Under the two seated couch he would lie. Looking at him I could see, he was feeling sorry for himself. We would help him best we could, however as the leg got stronger he wanted to go outside. Eventually against instructions we allowed him out. Monty couldn't go far which was lucky.
The days passed slowly for Monty. Meanwhile after each, the leg got stronger until the day came when the splint could be removed. We were not supposed to allow Monty out. There was no time limit suggested, so as usual it was ignored. However, we relented despite our better judgement. However you can't keep a good man (or cat in this case) down, we had to relent. The vet probably realised for very few people have the discipline to keep a cat in the house even when under orders to.
For a while after that Monty didn't venture far, although as memories faded he began to go further a field. Again, as we all do, slipping back into his bad ways. That was one of the many scraps that Monty got into in his life.

Bimbo Titch & Ginger
Bimbo was the first of Monty's three friends. A cuddly, all black cat, he was a year younger than Monty. Number four was his abode although even at night he was not always there. The lady friend of our neighbour bought him, a tiny furry creature. Bimbo was black from head to toe.
I first recall Bimbo creeping around the patch of garden just outside the conservatory. A timid creature even at the best of times he was still willing to be friendly and was not frightened when I approached. Monty was uninterested at first, he was aware when Bimbo was around but didn't see any threat.
Like most pets they got to know each other by sniffing around, sometimes one would approach the other, sniff the nose and withdraw.
As they grew older and bigger, especially Bimbo who from being a tiny under fed cat became much bigger almost over grown they spent more time together. Most of the time they would chase and fight each other. Although they would cause each other injuries most of this was over enthusiasm. They rarely snarled at each other in the way sworn enemies would.
Bimbo often spent the night outside even in the cold of winter. I would often be the first up in our house especially on a Saturday morning. Monty would usually come round making a fuss of me until I let him out, more often than not by the kitchen door. From that side we could view the side of number four. The other side of the fence was the side entrance that was built over, this led on to the kitchen which was one story high. On the corner of this roof was the second floor of the house with the bathroom on one side and a bedroom on another. Every morning Bimbo could be seen here. He was usually curled up, sleeping. When he awoke, Bimbo would look into our conservatory. On seeing me or Monty he would slide down the roof. At the edge Bimbo jumped onto a wooden pole that led to the fence dividing the two gardens. Like a rope walking cat he treads one paw in front of another before changing direction along the fence. Finally he would climb into the old apple tree in the side garden. From this tree he could climb down into our garden and amble into our conservatory.
Once in I would often give Bimbo some food by which time Monty had disappeared. After enjoying breakfast Bimbo would leave too, in search of Monty. Often they would return one following another.
The conservatory had a window that we often left open so Monty could get in and out, this meant that Bimbo could also. On the outside was a dustbin which they could jump on to get in. Inside was a thin ledge just wide enough for them to crawl along, next to this was an old kitchen table. On this they could sit and stare out viewing all the neighbour hood action.
In the corner on an old spin dryer we placed a box and included a cushion and blanket. This was intended as a sleeping place for Monty who often slept in the conservatory when he was young. Bimbo used it as often as Monty did, often spending the whole day sleeping in it. I do recall one occasion Bimbo was in it, I stroked him as I did often and then disappeared to watch some TV. Returning later I found Bimbo on the floor cowering. I stroked him again, In the box was Monty, although I heard no fight it was the only occasion Monty turfed, Bimbo out.
There were happy more friendly times. I often felt it was possible for both cats to curl up in the one box. It was warm and cosy though I never tried to force them too. One day I returned home from work entering through the front door. As usual I changed before returning down stairs. Entering the dinning room I moved into the adjacent kitchen, from where I could unlock the door to the conservatory. This I did with usual ease, the door opened and I walked through, "nothing there" I thought to myself, although the window was wide open. As I turned to return into the kitchen I glimpsed the box in the corner, in it were two cats curled up, Monty and Bimbo. It was the one and only time it occurred.
Twice, Monty suffered injury's probable due to fighting Bimbo. The same did not occur to Bimbo, although once his paw was banged up this was only a graze and may not have been caused by a fight.
In one fight Bimbo bit Monty on the tail, this was to cause him much discomfort that Bimbo couldn't understand. The first we realised was when our mum noticed Monty walking round with his tail down. It was neither straight, nor curled in the air, in fact you could say it drooped. Most cats happily will hold the tail high in the air. This is a sign of feeling good, when angry they bang it down in a range. Monty showed neither emotion, mum investigated. She soon worked out what was wrong and so Monty had another visit to the vets. It also meant he had to suffer more tablets. Most humans don't like medicine, so I ask myself, why should cats be any different? In Monty's case it was a struggle to open his mouth, pop in a tablet and then poke it in to make him swallow it. Often this meant following up with a drink of milk. Monty loved his milk, he lapped it up spilling as much as he could drink.
Another fight caused Monty to suffer a bruise on the head. It was a lump about the size of a golf ball. We first noticed it because Monty kept scratching and shaking his head. This of course meant another visit to the "dreaded" vet for Monty. By applying pressure in the right places the vet squeezed out the puss and only blood remained. This meant another course of injections, tablets and solitary confinement for our Monty. It was a surprise to us all when Dad posed the question what would happen in the wild? He also answered his own question by saying "I suppose he would shake it out" for Monty scratched and shook his head for a few days that followed.
Bimbo's owner moved away, although not far she (his owner) now lives on an estate just below Woodfield Road. The area had previously been farm land but wasn't much used and like much of Dursley and district was redeveloped. Many cats lived on the estate despite which Bimbo often found his way back to his old home. His owner got used to these journeys and eventually Bimbo would appear at his old home returning at night to his new abode.
I remember one bonfire night Bimbo was on our conservatory all day. At night the fireworks began, from the conservatory the noise of the fireworks could be heard. Bang, Bang, behind us a party was in progress with bright flashing lights and loud bangs. Monty was in the house, well aware of the proceedings; However, he was not concerned in the slightest. Bimbo witnessed all the action from the conservatory. He was a timid creature, who would not dare leave the vicinity. The bangs continued to get louder, while fireworks lit up the sky. In his eyes, I could see he was scared. He crawled into the box and went to sleep waiting patiently for the noise to die down.
Eventually when things appeared safe and quiet, Bimbo looked up at me asking to be let out. As I opened the door, Bimbo dashed out, returning quickly to his new home before the bangs returned.
It reminded me of a time when we playing with a sonic noise maker. Bimbo was in the conservatory with the window open. Being a silly adolescent, I switched it on. Bimbo didn't like it and shot out through the window like a jet spray. I laughed thinking it funny before someone pointed out what it sounded like to Bimbo. I managed to catch the cat and reassure him slightly, however he would not return that day.
Bimbo returned frequently, especially on hot summer days. Soon he was introduced to Ginger and Titch. They never got on probable because they never realised that Bimbo had lived here before them. One day Ginger and Titch combined to chase Bimbo away. It was the last time I can recall seeing Bimbo, however I was told that their were many cats on his new estate with whom he was friendly. Like humans cats can make new friends.
Ginger was always more friendly and brave than other cats he was always coming in our house and up to myself, parents or brothers. Monty resented Ginger more than Titch although Frank our neighbour and his owner once pronounced "it was good to see Monty and his two cats were friends."
Ginger and Titch were often left out until after dark, this had a bad side effect as Monty stayed out with them. It was however not due to friendship but more like the games children play. I'm older than you, so I should stay out later. On occasions when Monty was in the mood, he would never return in doors, until the "pesky pair next door" were in. It was almost as if it were beneath his dignity.
Frank James often argued that they were farm cats and this was why they stated out a lot. It was of course rubbish as they had spent all there lives not on a farm but as house cats turfed out by thoughtless owners.
Titch was Titch, small and often receiving attention in fact favouritism within her own home. Often she and Ginger would go separate ways and were rarely seen together. Titch would often return during the day especially if it were cold. If her owners were out on occasions she would ask Mum to let her in number eight. She continued to do this till the day she died. Mum of course did not have a key however we would let her in ours if she would come. She was even more stand offish than Monty in a mood for rarely could a member of the Markey household catch her let alone stroke her.

Birds
Females no! We are on about the feathered variety that Monty loved to stalk and chase. In fact he caught many and would proceed to play with his victim.
At the front of the house is a row of trees under which I had first discovered Monty. This was one of his favourite spots for not only was it sheltered from sun and rain it was a good hiding place. However best of all Birds flew into these trees who unwittingly would end in Monty's mouth. To the side and rear is an apple tree that Monty loved to climb this was another area to stalk although more open. A short distance away was the conservatory, from there he would watch. Crouching low, Monty was waiting his moment. When it arrived, he would pounce quickly and silently in the hope of catching a victim.
I remember the first catch clearly, more than any other it was a learning process for us all. We don't know were he caught it although I do know that five houses up there was a nest of new born chicks. These would be easy prey to any cat. Any way Monty brought his first victim into the Kitchen proudly displaying in his jaws before dropping it on the kitchen floor.
The bird was still alive but Monty kept it under control it wasn't going to escape from him. We tried to grab him but too late in a flash Monty picked the bird in his mouth and was off. There followed a game of chase Monty keeping his distance ensured he would not be caught. Occasionally he would drop the barely alive bird on the ground as if to tempt us to grab it if we dare. Of course he was too quick for any one who tried and just grabbed it and ran off again. We stood their "naughty naughty" in an angry tone and he would stare back.
Monty had learnt from this that catching birds was not approved of by humans so like many before he carried on just annoying. In future he would tease the victim but always ensured no human would stop him. We also had learnt for nothing we could say or do, would stop Monty. It wasn't hunger it was his natural instinct and even he if Monty was over weight he would still chase the birds and catch the young in their nest.
One other occasion I clearly remember involved Monty being attacked by dive bombing starlings. It was the 15th April 1989 a day to be remembered. For those of you who don't realise I was off to watch a football match later that day between Liverpool and Nottingham Forest. It was the F A Cup semi final the venue was Hillsborough.
I awoke early that morning full of excitement and anticipation. I Knew I would never get back to sleep, and even if I could I was scared I would over sleep. Therefore my only choice was to get up, make a drink and breakfast. Following this I would watch the early morning sports programme. As I looked across from the kitchen to the roof of the adjacent house I could not see Bimbo. This was unusual but happened from time to time. Monty made a big fuss of me, rubbing up to my legs and moving in between as he often did. In the direction of the fridge I went and removed a partially open tin of kit cat. Carefully lifting Monty's dish from his cat mat on the floor I placed it on the shelving above the fridge. With an old spoon in one hand and tin of cat food in other I dished out a few spoonfuls onto his dish. After two or three I finished and placed the spoon in the tin, which was then returned to the fridge. Monty was watching, eager as ever. In days gone by he would crawl up my leg reminding me he was there, as if to say I'm a hungry pussy cat. He had learnt he no longer needed too. Following the dish with his eyes and moving slowly until I returned the dish to its original spot. He was in, quick as a flash munching at those tasty lumps of meat.
While Monty was divulging his breakfast I proceeded with mine, pouring ice cold milk on crispy weatabix. The TV was on and I watched this while swallowing one spoon at a time between sips of black coffee. By the break for the adverts' Monty had licked the dish clean and it was clear he wanted to go out. I therefore had no choice first, I opened the entrance to the conservatory. As we proceeded further, I opened the second door to the outside world. Monty sniffed up into the air before diving down the step onto the pavement and darting into the bushes on the side garden. I shut the door behind him and proceeded towards the conservatory window. As usual I opened this so he could return when he wanted, I then returned to my seat to enjoy the early entertainment and finish breakfast.
Breakfast over, I continued to get ready, ticket check, money yes, cards for purchasing train tickets all ok. Returning downstairs I thought I should do some washing up. It would be another 30 minutes before Ian was due. Turning the tap hot water gushing out I placed dirty dishes in the bowl and squirted fairy liquid in. Turning the tap off I placed my hands into the washing up mixture, suddenly I pulled them out as the water was too hot. The kitchen window faced the garage, in front of that was a patio. Around the house under the window was a drain were surplus water would form into a river leading to the main drain. It was at this point I noticed a commotion outside. I realised that four or five sparrows were outside dive bombing and squawking as if there was no tomorrow. I could not see what they were attacking so decided to investigate.
As I walked around the house and turning the corner I was now parallel with the Kitchen window, it was Monty these birds were so annoyed at. Why? I asked myself. Monty appeared disconcerned, appearing more interested in placing his paws in the ditch around the side of the house. Suddenly I saw what was interesting him, somehow a small sparrow was stuck in the drain. The creature didn't realise it but it had volunteered to be another of Monty's victims.
Quickly I dragged Monty away, kicking and screaming. Monty struggled but the more he did the tighter was my grip. Shaun the elder of my two brothers came to my rescue, together we shut Monty in the house he was not happy. We returned to the bird and by using our initiative, a stick and some good fortune managed to prise the creature from were it was trapped. It was probable beyond survival now, however we returned it to the trees on our front lawn, where it came from. I then returned to the house.
Monty was eager to go out but we knew we couldn't let him. Somehow he could sense where his pray was, it had not moved and was no match for Monty. He climbed on to the ledge along the windows at the front of the house warning all around if he could get out he would. Sadly the bird did not survive and Monty continued to catch and kill birds, it remained always within his instinct.
I also recall Monty catching a new born mouse. Probable he discovered a near by nest as it was only a baby. Monty played with it like any other victim. However we had less sympathy (not that we could do much).

Monty's two day disappearance
We have some pleasant afternoons in this country, cold in the winter but hot during the summer. During these pleasant summer days and evenings Monty would wander off. Sometimes however we would play games with him throwing a ball against the garage he would chase it as it bounced back. As the ball bounced up Monty would stand on hind legs to control it. Once he had achieved this he would knock it around the patio like a footballer chasing after it like a mad dog. In many ways he should have been a dog for he would pick a ball up in his teeth and drop it later.
One Sunday during what had been a pleasant period of warm weather Monty went out on his usual walk. He would sniff round the house, perhaps visit the trees on the front lawn. Then when no one was looking would run off in any direction he wanted. We soon forgot him and would either watch television or read a newspaper.
It was about midday when Mum first said something "Has anyone seen Monty this morning?" No we replied. Dad who was working that day could not answer. We were not concerned at that point for although Monty usually did not disappear for that long we were often out during the day and he would be used to long periods alone. Mum however was concerned.
About two o'clock Dad returned home to be told by mum about Monty's disappearance, He to was unconcerned for their was nought we could do about it. By five o'clock we were all worried both my parents Gareth and myself for he would be hungry by now.
I had read stories in our local paper about cats going missing never to be seen again, taken away by members of the animal trade who used them for vivisection. The thought upset me and I knew that if I caught hold of anyone involved they would suffer a backlash.
As darkness fell we all went off in different directions another fear was that he had been run over and was either dead or injured somewhere. His previous trouble with his leg caused this worry. There was no sign.
I went to sleep that night upset and worried I did not bother changing into night clothes. I figured I would get up early and search further in day light, I never did.
We were all upset that day I in particular did not concentrate on my work. Mum contacted local radio and a local animal shelter but nothing. That night I went in search of Monty again feeling helpless we knew we would be lucky to find him again. It was however the only thing I could do for at least it was doing something, no one else bothered.
Tuesday morning another sleepless night in jeans and tea shirt. We had all given up hope at this stage, the mood was sombre as we all went in differing directions to work.
I was quiet and upset, It was a relief when I eventually revealed to my colleagues why. They were comforting, I shouldn't give up hope but I had.
Woodfield road is a steep road, during that afternoon a Black and white cat was strolling down the adjacent path full of the joys of spring. Proud as punch he found his way home from wherever he had been.
About three o'clock that afternoon a call came through to the room I was working in. "Its your Dad" I was told by the receptionist and then the phone was put down. "Hello Dad Kevin speaking" I said. "Hello" was the reply I received "It's your Dad here." "I just thought you should know that Monty has returned, I've told mum but she thought you were upset so said I should tell you" My sadness turned to great joy "that's great news" I said Thanks for letting me know.
I was overjoyed and did not think of asking for more details before putting the phone down. The first thing I did was to tell my colleagues.
I rushed home that night extra keen to see Monty, wanting to check he was all right. Really I needn't worry, for he was in fine health. Monty was not injured and didn't appear hungry.
Monty stayed in that night making a big fuss over each of us rubbing against our legs and not venturing outside. Although we would not let him. He also did not venture far for many days but like us all soon returned to his old ways.
We all have our theories on what happened one being that he was chased away by a dog or other animal. There was reports in the local paper about a wild dog on the estate behind us. My theory is that he found a warm shed, car or house to enter and was locked in. Monty was shut in rooms or the garage occasionally, though not intentionally therefore it was not unrealistic. He was also very friendly so could possible have been taken in by a lonely pensioner perhaps.
Like many things about Monty we will never know the true story it remains another mystery.

It's not for the leaving
December 1992 was a momentous occasion for me for after many years of threatening I purchased my own house. As the crow fly's it is fifty yards or there about from Woodfield road to which I frequently returned. My dearest wish never to be fulfilled was to take Monty over to my new abode.
January 1993 and I moved out for good whether Monty realised we cannot know but I think he did. I returned home for three main reasons, 1) food as in the early days I returned for my main meals. 2) was to use Gareth's computer for typing chess reports and other records. 3) On every visit I always asked after Monty where was he? How was he? Etc.
Often if Monty was not around when I arrived I would wait until he returned home just to see him. We always made a big fuss of each other and Monty always remembered me even when my visits became less frequent or when the gaps became longer.
When I left home I took my bed with me this meant Monty had one less place to sneak up to hide. My room being the smallest in the house (except the bathroom) was a funny L shape which the single bed I had at the time fitted snugly into. He used to like it up there for it was often quiet. If it was late at night I would let him sleep on my bed leaving the door ajar. He usually got up in the night to return down stairs, never did he stay the full night. Another thing he liked about the bed was the sliding doors underneath. When they were left open he would go under the bed from where he was difficult to move. The only answer was to sit and wait. He was always careful when he went under there not disturbing or destroying any item of mine.
In the early days Monty would often sleep on our laps as he grew older he refused to stay unless we made him. I did however notice that he went on Gareth's lap and slept for hours at a time restricting Gareth's movement.
We also obtained a large cardboard box taller than he was. Monty had to jump up and in to this but he didn't mind. Once inside he could curl up and sleep no one knew he was there unless they looked in.
I often looked in and put my hand in to stroke his furry coat. He didn't mind, took no notice just carried on sleeping. This was probable a sign that his days with us were numbered and although Mum said she thought he wasn't well we took no notice. How wrong we were for maybe we could have done something or maybe it was old age for Monty had less energy, no longer did he chase balls catch birds or climb trees. Much of his time was spent sleeping.

The End of a life of Love
Monday November 22nd 1993, as I often did, I popped over to visit. Wether to see Monty use my brothers' computer or because I was lonely I don't recall. Probable Monty was the main inspiration. He was no longer the lively cat he once was his days of chasing balls had long gone. The days were short, nights long and cold Monty spent most of his time sleeping in a big box that he would jump in to.
I peered into the box to see him curled up, his chest expanding as he breathed in and out. I placed my hand on the top of his head and gently stroked his forehead. Monty took no notice, he failed to even raise his head to look up. He carried on sleeping. I continued to caress him while chatting to mum. In between, I would comment how Monty was a lovely pussy "the best cat in the world." Little did I know that this would be the last time I would see Monty alive.

The next morning arose and while I got ready for work at my abode Monty was about at six Woodfield road. It was another Cold and foggy November morning, the kind that no body wants to go out in. After placing food in his tray Gareth left Monty alone for a while. Later however obviously the cat wanted to go out. Presuming he wanted a "ponky" or wee Gareth opens the Kitchen door. As Monty strolls through the conservatory the second door is opened. Monty sniffs the cold air before entering the cold November morn. He gives Gareth a look that turns into a last goodbye and strolls to the front of the house.
Only a stone's throw away in a favourite hiding spot among the bushes he settles down for another sleep. Perhaps the cold of day kills any pain he feels but this is to be his final sleep. Monty inhales his last breath to bring tears to many people.
As I write this know tears are in my eyes and every time I think of the end this occurs. The line "no one could love you more than I do" may be an exaggeration but Monty was loved by myself and many others for his warmth, love and affection.
That evening I called round to my parents the story of Gareth letting Monty out Dad calling him and no one seeing him was repeated over again. At this stage we had not found his body and memories of his other disappearance returned.
In the cold, foggy night I put on my coat and went in search of Monty. When he disappeared before I recall seeing a couple who asked if I was seeking a dog, naturally I replied "No." This time I saw no one no dog no animal and worst still no Monty.
The previous experience raised our hopes but for me a bad year was made worse.
Wednesday and I phoned the police, the animal rescue centre and both local radio stations. Working with me at the time Andy Daniel asked if there was any news "no" I had to reply. I also mentioned the other disappearance. I had one other fear, for I knew that when animals could see the end they went in search of a peaceful spot to pass away. This was my secret fear.
The following day brought nothing just memories and fears. What made things worse was he was away longer than the first time and could do nothing.
Friday November 26th dad returned home from work at about 2.30. Still upset and missing Monty as we all did he goes in a last search. The neighbour was out so he started to search their among the bushes. Why? I don't know perhaps instinct or destiny, however in his search of the bushes on the other side of the dividing fence he discovered the body, cold and lifeless. Upset in tears he returns shortly with a blanket and removes the body carefully moving it to the garage.
Ginger, Monty's friend for many years follows not understanding. Dad places the body in the garage with respect shown to the deceased a blanket covers the body.
That evening after a quick change I again rushed over to my parent’s house. As I arrived at the front door I could tell something was not right. I pushed my spare key into the key hole and quickly turned it. The lock moved across and I was able to push the front door ajar. Closing it after me I turned to my right, entering the living room. I could not see dad, But mum was sitting at the table silent with a look on her face to suggest she had been crying. "Any news of Monty?" I asked not wanting an answer. "Yes" she said "he's been found" "where I asked?" "Dead" was the reply before she told me how and where dad had found him. Mum burst in to tears unable to control herself. Their I stood, just stunned, tears were in my eyes as they are even as I write. I returned to my own home thinking what am I to do Stories and memories flood back. What am I to do? This was worse than before the only redeeming quality was we had found the body. Monty had died peacefully.
Saturday morning and I returned to my parent’s house. The mood was sombre, I was silent. Not knowing what to say, I said nothing. My parents went out that day as if nothing had happened for me that was wrong. Monty had died and it was a terrible day.
I walked slowly towards the garage, slowly. The door was open I bent down to the blanket cover. My desire was to lift it and kiss Monty one last time. I raised the cover and saw, a Monty I could not recognise cold, frozen not the Monty full of life and joy. I returned the cover and backed away.
Later that morning Shaun the elder of my two brothers arrived. His comment "shame about Monty" was cold, un caring and insensitive. He never knew Monty as we did. Watching from the kitchen I witnessed as Shaun inquisitively, lifted the blanket cover as I did before. He was full of coldness, he appeared to do this without feeling, and quickly he replaced the cover and retreated. Looking away, I held back my anger for this was Monty a dearly loved friend. Shaun was treating him as if it was something that happened in life.
Maybe it was but that is not how I feel.
Sunday, Dad speaks to me in raised voice "What the hell is the matter with you, Gareth is upset, Mums upset and I'm upset. Still I continued to hold back my anger. In reality my tears could not be stopped, it was the end for the best cat in the world.
"I found him" dad announced angrily as if to say how does that feel? "Snap out of it"
Again I held back my anger, Gareth shouldn't have let him out, and mum should have taken him to the vet. But its all to late.
My father offered to give Monty a proper burial covering his body. He promised to find a good spot and mark his grave.
Next to the house is a patch of garden where grows an apple tree where Monty used to climb and Bimbo would climb down. This was a favourite spot for Monty he could hide in the bushes or try to catch Birds.
In this patch Monty is buried the grave is easily visible and I have added to it by creating a wooden cross to mark the spot.
Whenever I look in that direction I think of Monty.
For days, weeks even Months after I could not bear to go up the side of the house. I didn't want to see the burial spot for it made me cry, so I always entered by the front door. Nowadays I look to the place and stop for a few seconds and say we remember and miss you Monty.
No cat or animal, would dare to sit or disturb that spot, not in my sight or else. Even Ginger. I recall the line "Walk on" from the song "your never walk alone" for Monty did though he is now gone
The area of Monty’s grave is now paved over no longer marked but I will always recall him.

Xmas without Monty and Memories
Christmas came that year 1993, but it wasn't the same. Early I left my home at number three the Delkin to get to number six Woodfield Road for dinner and to open presents. Dad had to work that year, although the railways were shut fear of IRA attacks (this was before the ceasefire) meant that a presence had to be maintained. Ginger may have come in to wish us Merry Xmas. Titch however would stay away Christmas was never to be the same again.
We eat the traditional Turkey dinner minus Monty. As we swallowed there was no cat pestering us for his share no Monty to fuss over, no Monty under our feet on our laps or jumping at the table.
Almost a year on I mentioned Monty for the first time. In the interim period I stayed silent. I compared him to Cilla mum's replacement for Monty.
I recalled our first discussion when mum said she would get another cat. Thinking it was talk, I took no notice. How wrong I was? "Mum" I said "you’ll never replace Monty." She nodded in agreement.
He was the best cat in the world I continue to repeat. I often talk to Ginger and ask "you remember Monty""Don't you Ginger?"
Things I recall about Monty are numerous, from that first meeting under the bushes and trees that were to become a favourite haunt. The injured leg with Monty under the couch rebuilding his strength to chasing a ball thrown for his benefit. Grabbing it like a dog, in his teeth.
Monty was happy and proud to live in our abode, eager to see us when he wanted to come in, his head would be held high asking to come in. It remained high as he looked up to us with pride in his look. Like many a cat before and after him, Monty would chase his tail. This was another of his tricks, to show off.
In the evening Monty would come upstairs either retiring on my bed, Gareth's bed or our parents double bed. When I was asleep or pretending to be, I allowed him to stay. Monty would play with my feet under the sheets grabbing at them if they moved. Under my bed was another spot where Monty would hide or under the stairs behind the Kitchen where so much mess and clothes were lying about he could hide and not be found. He always breathed heavily and loudly although he was hiding from us, it ensured he was found.
I recall vividly the play full ness of Monty. I would tickle his tummy, which like most cats he enjoyed. Sometimes he would grab my hand as if to stop it, If I was quick I would move it away. Next thing he knew I was poking his nose so he would try again. Moving from tummy to nose while Monty continued to grab at my hand, all the while a big grin on his face. This would last for two or three minutes until we both got bored. Sometimes Monty got angry, but he could still be gentile. When he didn't want you near his paw would push you away ever so gentle. There was never any malice.
One night I remember was the thunder and lightning. I was concerned in case Monty should be scared for to my knowledge this was the first time he had come across it. He was unconcerned not worried by the noise and rejected any comfort I offered.
His exploits on the conservatory jumping from one roof to another before jumping onto the patio and running away, or running up the stairs in a race against time this is the Monty I recall.
Clambering over me, while I was sitting on the settee, just to get on to Gareth's lap.
Sadly these days are gone the last days' I remember Monty sleeping in his box. The body so cold and bleak. Under the apple tree is the grave of Monty clearly visible and marked by a cross. As I pass by it, I stop and remember our Monty the good times of the best cat in the world.

Other Cats
Well where do I start in the year after his passing I have come across many. Some are new, like Cilla, others are old friends such as Ginger.
I think my favourite Ginger is the best starting. He continues to live at number eight with the James gang. Always popular he continues to call round. Number six Woodfield Road is a second home to Ginger. He has become friendly with Cilla, who we believe fancies Ginger. This did not occur over night both Ginger and Titch hissed at her when she first arrived. Ginger, when ever he sees me always comes over to say Hello. On some occasions he has failed to recognise me because of the coat I wear. On another time I arrived dragging a big lawn mower, Ginger refused to come near me. However when he realised who it was, like an old friend he rushes up to say hello. Recently I picked Ginger up, he had recently eaten and was heavier than I could recall. I guess now he is older and does not exercise as he used to he puts on more weight.
Two other Ginger cats are around, one looks very much like the real "Ginger" but has been under fed. He is timid but is often seen at number eight. On one occasion real Ginger chased him away. Mrs James refers to this one as Ginger Thomas.
A bigger Ginger was seen near my home on the Delkin. I call him Ginger but his fur is more like a dirty brown. Number five own a boat and this cat was sitting in it. I first noticed when I arrived home one day. Enticing it in my direction proved impossible, later a second attempt proved fruitful. When I tried to pick this one up, it became very disgruntled. I therefore put it down, and allowed it to walk away.
Shortly after Monty died number five inherited a stray. Sarah told me once how it had adopted them, it had been kicked out of its own home. Probable it was maltreated and under fed. It was friendly, although I only saw it on two occasions. Both times I allowed it into my home where it explored. I never saw it after that and know not what happened to it.
Titch continues to be around but has become more friendly. It was much to my surprise when I walked up to her sitting on our front lawn. In the past she would run off, this time she stayed put while I stroked her head. More often than not this will happen although she refuses to come to me. Cilla and Titch don't get on although they tolerate each other. One day they were both in the garden. I was sitting, Cilla was one side of me, Titch the other, I attempted to get them to be friendly. First I stroked each and thinking as they were together and not fighting they had become friends. It was short lived as I was soon proved wrong, when Titch hissed at Cilla, who ignored her.
I have not seen Bimbo for many years now perhaps I will go on to his new estate to seek him out. Recently I have learnt that his owner is returning to four Woodfield road. She is to marry her gentleman friend. Bimbo may well return. It will be interesting. He might remember me?
Cilla is Monty's replacement, Black fur all over her tiny body. Mum got her as a kitten, full of energy. Shy at first she soon changed and sticks up for herself. She was never scared of Ginger and like all kittens and cats, is to inquisitive for her own good. At the moment she is climbing over this computer. She is in the way of the screen. Exploring the keyboard I will have to tell her off in a minute. Purring away she is now playing with a pen, before moving her head back in my direction to watch me typing. She has been known to fall off a chair or t[w'kkkkkkkkkk two in her time. The error in the last line is due to her.
Monty did a similar thing to Cilla when I was writing my World Chess Championship exploits.
My neighbours at number two didn't move far. They previously lived at number five Hilltop view a road where I lived until I was fourteen. Eventually they brought with them their cat called Kitty. A large cat in the latter years of life she has proved to be friendly. Like Bimbo they have a problem with her returning to her old hunting ground. When left alone for long periods she often appears at the side or Kitchen window. Upon seeing her I will talk to her saying silly things. Sometimes she will meow at me. One weekend she was alone for the Saturday and Sunday. Her owners had gone away, although she had plenty of food. Kitty was meowing as if to ask me to let her out. It surprised me as they had relations nearby who knew her well but failed to let her out.
When Kitty is out I can gently hold my hand out and with a little patience she will came up to me , sniff at and rub against my legs.
There is also two turquoise coloured cats who live in the area. They are easy to tell apart as one has a thick bushy tail. The second of these has a thin tail and is not so big. Both can be persuaded to come to me.
Often nowadays if I see a cat I will stop in memory of Monty. When I was staying in Torquay one September on one of my many strolls I saw a cat on the bonnet of a car. I cannot recall its appearance but as is my way I began stroking it. She snarled at me, not with intent but enough to frighten me away. I remember encouraging a cat in Plymouth a few years earlier to come to me. I recall this one especially as it had one eye missing but was still very friendly to a stranger.
A few weeks ago, a black cat was on the fence that divides my back garden from number four. It was a sunny day and as I was going into the garden any way I headed in its direction. Carefully I moved very slowly, until positioned a short distance along the fence. To my surprise the cat did not run away but headed in my direction. A few weeks later I was walking home from my parent’s house. To my astonishment the very same cat ran across the road to me. Rubbing against my leg it made a big fuss as if pleased to see me. I remembered who he/she was and returned the compliment. It became obvious after a while it was going to be difficult to get away. Determined as I was, she followed me for a while before giving up the chase.
I must mention one further animal, Rebel the faithful spaniel. He is often seen walking past my home or on his walks through the local estate. He is a friendly animal and always a pleasure to see. What I should really do is give him some biscuits as Peter Hale the previous inhabitant of my house did.
This has been dedicated to Monty and all cats throughout the world. Monty was the best cat in the World and missed by his many friends.

Kitty my neighbour’s cat died in 2003
Titch passed away in 2008 she was run over either by dad or a member of the James household. She was blind and hard of hearing. When Ginger passed away she was upset and in tears I am advised even though they were never close I guess he was always there for her especially during the night.