Some of you who I know from Face Book might remember me mentioning Branwell, and you have no doubt been having sleepless night wondering how he’s doing. For those of you who haven’t got a clue what I’m talking about, Branwell is one of the many moggies that hang around our secluded little backwater. About ten of the locals (cats), all black, white and ugly belong to the neighbour. The rest are wild. We used to get a lot of visitors, cats that obviously had a perfectly good home somewhere, but just liked slumming it with the neighbour’s mean gang. The nice cats don’t come round anymore, too many third generation wild cats for their liking I suspect.
Branwell though is a lost moggy, possibly the apple of some distraught pensioner’s eye; possibly some little girl has cried herself to sleep many a night over her lost pussy cat. Branwell…
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