By popular request of a single fan who asked me today privately: “Where is the f@*ing cat?” After I told him that Henry was fine albeit not f@*ing anymore since he had the snip we had a chat and then I started to look around – where in fact was Henry?
We had been lazy today and ordered food (If the prophet can’t go to the food, let the food come to the prophet, I say.) and I admit that amongst paying the delivery guy and salivating in anticipated pleasures I forgot to pay attention that the door was open. Had Henry slipped out?

He is an outdoor cat but we have been careful never to let him in the stairwell. We don’t want him to leave through the front door because of the road with cars and dogs. He has got the whole back yard to roam. True, if he really is interested in the other side of life we won’t be able to stop him but I wouldn’t want to encourage him.

I called for him behind the house – no answer. I walked up and down the stairwell and except for a curious neighbour – no answer. I checked in the garage – no answer. I finally ventured outside (in my slippers, my old baggy pants I wouldn’t be caught dead in normally – just the curlers were missing) and called for Henry. Just when I was about to give up, he appeared high up on the garage building, looking down on me and scolding me. Presumably for disturbing the neighbourhood in the middle of the night.

Back in the flat I let him in and gave him some treats. Was that cat psychology – make him appreciate coming when called? Or was it “how to train your human”? No idea.