Around two years ago a large, stocky black and white cat appeared out of nowhere in our garden. he was wary of us and would run off if approached. When we did get close to him it was apparent that he was quite ‘bruiser’. Heavy set, slightly unkempt fur and a well scratched nose and nicks to his ears; this was either a stray or feral tomcat. A very ‘intact’ tomcat.

His appearance coincided with our own female cat, ‘Stormy’ coming into heat! She became intolerable. Rolling around on the floor, mewing and constantly wanting to be let out into our back garden…..where of course this tom was making increasingly regular visits.

The two cats would gaze at each other for hours, Stormy inside from a window ledge, the tom in the cold garden. For his part, he was committed to this pursuit- regardless of the weather or time of day, he was there….waiting his moment.

The inevitable happened. Stormy managed to get out of the house and a few months later she had a beautiful litter of 4 kittens. The tom was nicknamed ‘Dadcat’.

The kittens grew up, we found homes for 3 of them and kept the smallest of the litter, a shy jet black, female called ‘Bella’.

We thought that having had his fun, Dadcat would move on to further conquests elsewhere…..but he continued to visit the garden. sadly, Stormy was killed in a road accident and Bella was the last remaining cat we actually owned.

And there the story may well have ended. Dadcat , however continued to hang around. In fact, he did more than that…he began to trust us, he’d sneak into the house and eat Bella’s food, only making a mad dash for escape when we came into the room. One day we found him curled up, fast asleep in the kitchen….upon being discovered he raced out into the garden.

As time went on, upon being found in the house, his ‘escapes’ became more relaxed from frantic dashes to reluctant walks back outside, like a recalcitrant teenager being asked to do a chore. Eventually one day, he didn’t walk out. He stayed put, looked  up as we entered the kitchen, strolled towards one of us, stretched his long heavy body and clearly required the food bowl to be replenished.

So that brings the tale up to date. Dadcat is still called Dadcat, he still sort of lives with us, he still fights, he is still unkempt. What has changed is his nature towards ourselves. Dadcat now completely trusts us, will spend long evenings sat on our laps and no longer rushes out of the house upon discovery.

Dadcat is part of our lives.