Despite my love of cats, I don't currently have one with me. I think I'm waiting for a replica of my dear old ginger Tom to come along. He came to me as a rescue cat and was one of life's fighters; dogs, other cats, children and most adults; he showed no distinction, he'd chase and bite them all. He was the best hunter I've ever known, rats, mice, frogs, other people's dinner, every day he hunted something and dragged it home to me. His ears looked like they'd been cut out with pinking shears, they were so ragged and scarred. Whilst everyone was terrified of him, with good reason, he was the most loving, affectionate little thing with me and he trusted me implicitly to dress his wounds and give him yet more antibiotics for his war wounds. I still miss him.