I have just read that it can be cathartic to write about your grief – get it out and try to understand it – so I am breaking my rule about writing about Florence and trying to get this cat grief out on paper and out of my head – after all she was only a cat wasn’t she?

I am a great believer that animals find their humans – not the other way round – although we have to be at the right place at the right time -but that was the point about Calze – she chose me!

There I was in Battersea Cats Home admiring a very haughty young British Blue, thinking that Husband John would take to him fine, and all I needed to do was “sign-here”, but still her persistent scratch, scratch, scratch “me me, me,” on the window of a cage a few doors down could not be ignored.

I had seen her and admired her before but she was totally unauthorised by HWMBO (he who must be obeyed)- the criteria being a thick-haired blue-grey male and she being black and white, thin, deaf, female and  – worst of all – old!

Loving her made no sense at all but I asked to hold her and she snuggled up with the loudest purr I had ever heard and I was completely lost. Plenty of people will want the beautiful cat I reasoned, but this huge character in a small package has little hope unless I take her – and Husband was away working in Manchester, and had allowed me to choose?

So naturally, she came home with me!

Her arrival was wonderful – she came out of her travelling box still purring,  but with that worried sort of purr that cats make when they are unsure of themselves – first, we explored the whole top of the house – every room and every corner thereof – no fear – no hiding under the beds or in cupboards ( although she inspected cupboards, airing cupboards, inside drawers and even up the chimney in some detail later!) – but she still needed to do a thorough review of the premises!

Upstairs certified acceptable, and dog-free, we came back down  (notice I am already the obedient servant following in her wake) and checked out the kitchen. Unerringly she went straight to the cupboard where the previous cat’s food had been kept until his demise some six months before – “Yes please! – I would like to be fed now!”

After her snack she decided it was time to go into the garden – no messing about for two days in the house whilst she settled in – the relentless left paw got to work on the French window with the same determination that had originally claimed my attention – I realised that Little Miss Italian Socks was not minded to be gainsaid – and meekly followed her into the garden!

However, I wasn’t risking my £65 Battersea purchase vanishing over the garden wall so as we approached the end of the lawn I dared to pick her up intending to carry her back to the house.

This was taken very badly – where had my little cuddle puss gone?

She hissed her fury into my ear and struggled to be let down – walking back to exactly the spot I had picked her up and then turning around and walking in her own good time back into the house!

Once there she found a patch of sunlight and settled down, completely at home – lying on her back to make the most of the sunshine as she thoroughly licked any last residue of Battersea off her legs.

I could only watch in amazement as she took possession of my house, my life and my heart and henceforward her wish has been my command.

They say dogs have masters whilst cats have servants and for the past two years, I have been made to understand my duties very clearly! In London, Calze was persistently with me from morning to night  – demanding food, cuddles, general attention and to be let out into the garden by the french windows – i.e. the easy route – the cat flap being a method of last resort    – No! was not an option!

Then suddenly last week, after many trips to the vets for an ever-increasing list of ailments, she was in acute pain and going into spasm every half hour and there was nothing to be done but provide a painless goodbye …..

But oh! Do I miss that demanding left paw and sweet smiling face!