One of our cats from thirty years ago. Drawing in biro. He lived until he was about 17. He was a lovely quiet cat and I remember him and his sister were sweet. His mum came to us, as a pregnant stray. She was very intelligent and liked riding on my shoulders but her son didn’t do that. But he was still clever and would always come when I called or whistled him. He used to sneak into my neighbours house through their cat flap and he came home once with a huge steak in his mouth, growling when I took it off him. I never dared tell my friends what he had done!