Black, white and retractable

I had always had dogs and was determined never to have a cat. Cats to me always seemed either very distant and cold or over friendly and constantly rubbing around your legs. No happy medium. So I was going to always stick with dogs.

My resolution was changed one year when we took a holiday on the Isle of Man. My son, whose only interest in pets up until this point were stick insects had declared that he would really like one of the cats with no tails. For those who have never been to the Isle of Man their cats come in three varieties: long tails, stumpies, and most renowned are the tail-less ones. Apparently any of the cats can bare each type of kitten either a normal long tailed version, a small one-and-a-half to two inch tail version, or a none or nob tail (no tail) version. As I later found out it is apparently caused through a birth defect similar to spina bifida in humans, which can cause obvious complications. Besides the usual Manx cats there was a very unusual tabby cat - it was a real bagpus - yes it was a definite pink, so much so I asked whether it had been dyed but was told no there were cats of that colouring on the Isle of Man - so for cat lovers everywhere >>> that must be where pink cats come from. I have never seen one since - they certainly don't appear to reside where I live!

Our family cat pictured above, came as a kitten from an animal sanctuary. She had been the runt of the litter. Very small, born to a very young cat - really only a kitten herself. The whole litter including the mother cat had apparently been discarded. All of the other kittens had died one by one until only one tiny one was left. She was so small that they kept her at the sanctuary until she had turned four months old. When we were allowed to bring her home she was very quiet. Not a sound came from her with the exception of a purr. She still purrs now almost continually. As a kitten, she stayed in the house for a long time before she would venture into the garden and it was months before she eventually explored any further. Her favourite game at this time was to hide either somewhere within the house or behind a plant or bush in the garden and wait until one of us walked past - then out would shoot her paw - and latch on to a raw leg, foot, shoe or trouser. Her young claws were as sharp as a surgeons scalpal. It's quite strange because whereas with a young puppy it's easy to say "no" and they look at you with doleful eyes and soon catch on. A cat is totally different - they just stare back at you and continue to play the game.