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It didn’t help matters that it was a particularly cold day as we made our way along Edgar Road. The cold wind was whipping our fur, and it was damp and dark. I couldn’t exactly use the weather as a good reason for us to be out this early. Even I was having trouble keeping my spirits up. I just hoped this new woman was worth it, otherwise I was pretty sure George would sulk with me for at least the rest of the day, if not the week.

‘If this woman turns out to be anything but wonderful, you know I’ll blame you,’ George said, echoing my thoughts.

The street was deserted, and although I could see lights on in some houses, people hadn’t yet emerged. Maybe I should have been a little more patient, I thought, as we reached the flat in question. I felt a pang of nostalgia as I always did when I saw it, thinking back to when I first met Franceska, and Aleksy, who was just a small child then, younger than Summer is now, and Tommy,who was still a toddler. And then Polly and Matt with Henry, who was a baby, not much older than Theo is now, I don’t think. Goodness, so much had happened between then and now, it struck me how full and wonderful my life had been and still was. In fact with each year it seemed to get fuller and more wonderful. I wasn’t a young cat anymore but there was plenty more lives left in me. Just look at Elvis; he was much older than me and still going strong.

‘What are you thinking about?’ George asked, clearly bored of sulking.

‘Just how much has happened since I first visited this flat, when Franceska and family lived here.’

‘Are you getting all soppy?’ George asked.

‘You know me so well, son. I know I always tell you stories about the past and you say that I go on and on, but it’s such a part of me, of all of us, and that’s probably why I do it so much.’

‘I understand. Now I’m a big cat I do, anyway. I remember when I first came to live with you and how much I loved it, and then when Toby came, and going on holiday and meeting Hana, Harold and the others. There is a lot in our lives to be grateful for …’

‘But?’ I asked, I could sense the sadness behind his words.

‘I still miss Tiger mum and I always will. When Harold was ill last year and I thought I would lose him too, I didn’t know how I would bear it. I was so happy when he got better. I’m so happy we have each other, you know – all of us – but I miss Tiger mum with every beat of my heart.’

‘Oh George, so do I. But we were so lucky to have had her in our lives.’

‘I know, but it doesn’t make missing her any easier, does it?’

‘No, I’m afraid it doesn’t.’ As much as we could say the right things about loss – you know, how it’s better to have loved and lost than never loved at all and that sort of stuff people always say – it doesn’t make it any better for the ones left behind. There are people and cats that I have had to say goodbye to in my life that I will never stop missing. I felt quite emotional as I gave George a nuzzle.

‘On a more cheerful note, we are here,’ George said, as we found a bush in the front garden of the flat to shelter in.

We staked the flat out for quite a while, before George nudged me and we looked at the front door opening. I sat up straight as a woman with short grey hair walked out. The evaluation of her seemed about right. She was fairly old, but not quite as old as Harold, it seemed, and she was wearing a big jumper, and trousers. She was also carrying a bin bag, which explained why she had emerged. George and I looked at each other. It was our cue.

‘Meow,’ I said approaching her.

‘What on earth?’ She spun round, almost bashing me with the bin bag. Lucky I ducked out of the way. I felt bad, I had obviously startled her.

‘Meow,’ George said, joining us, turning on his charm.

She looked at us as if she wasn’t quite sure what we were. George and I exchanged glances as the woman stood still, staring at us. What was going on?

‘Get out of my garden,’ she shouted, eventually, putting the bin bag down on the ground, precariously close to my tail. George took a step back but I stayed where I was. When George first met Harold he kept telling him to go away, but George won him round in the end, so I wasn’t too worried. Instead of moving, I purred at her.

‘You horrible stray cats, what are you doing here, clawing around my bins? I’m going to call animal control and have you taken away.’ She didn’t look or sound very friendly. The opposite, in fact.

‘Yowl!’ I objected. How on earth could she mistake us for strays? Me with my fine grey fur and George with his lovely, bright ginger-ish coat? We were absolutely nothing like stray cats. Not that I have anything against strays, I might add – I was homeless myself for a while, if you remember.However, I certainly didn’t look my best then, and the point was that I was affronted by this woman. How dare she criticise us like that.

‘Meow,’ George said, putting his head to one side, and looking his cutest. Surely she couldn’t resist us now?