We learn a lot from our little friends. It is always they who must be considered first; even on the tiredest night the cats rely on us for their food, water and shelter and it is always a quick check of the cats that is the last thing to do at night.

Having an animal show you total trust; an animal that could seriously scratch you gently stroke your face, an animal that could bite you deeply but instead rubs his (or her) nose on your face.

A little friend who is always there to greet you and is happy to see you and content just to sit on your lap and purr.

The ability to have a deep relationship with a beautiful animal that doesn’t need words is something that many people don’t have or understand; but it is one of the greatest gifts you could be born with.

Because our friends live much shorter lives than us there is always the inevitable tragedy. A grief so strong and deep it cannot be described. It is at those times you say ‘never again’ but you know that somewhere a little friend is in need of a home and who better to give you true comfort than a cat or dog. They never replace the lost friend, are never compared, and never dull the love and memories.

Without our little ones the world would be a barren place.

The very day the cat’s parents moved in together a black cat arrived and moved in. She originally lived with a couple who broke up and were going to have her put to sleep. She looked after her parents for about 10 years, eventually getting kidney cancer. It was a relief and joy that she passed to that great place where pets wait to be reunited with their staff, during her sleep alongside her parents – warm and safe.

We had some disasters with rescued cats. Sophie was beautiful but she had an accident and died because a vet gave her anaesthetic whilst she was in shock. She brought two kittens with her and fed them in our lounge. Charlie died on the road soon after his mother died. Nick then disappeared.

They are all buried in our garden, in their favourite places and each has a tree planted for them. They each played an important role in our lives, were loved deeply and are still in our thoughts.

Izzy came at the same time as Oliver and Lottie and died as a result of an inoperable tumour on her bowel. She was black with little white tufts on her ears and was loving and affectionate, and adorable beyond words. She was only 7 and we were deeply distressed at her loss.

Every cat we have lived with has repaid us for its care and each has made an indellible mark on our lives. We are proud and honoured to have had the opportunity to know them, if only for a short time in some cases. We have always said ‘never again’ because the pain of loss is too great but, a house is not a home without a little friend to share it with and our lives would be diminished without them.

We dedicate Oliver’s blog and his other little activities to all the cats we have known, to the happiness and joy they have brought us, and to the knowledge that one day we will all be together again.

Sam arrived in a different way to the others. Two children handed him to his new daddy and said they had bought him and taken him home but their parents said they didn’t want any cats and told them to put him in the dustbin. Fortunately the children had more sense than the parents and Sam joined the clan. He was estimated at about 10 weeks old and was very nervous. We don’t know his kitten history or where the children bought him from: they were about 10 years old and in Britain it has always been an offence to sell any animal to a minor.

He fitted in to our motley family of kittens and they all grew up together. He is the same age as the others but much smaller and goes everywhere at double speed. His energy sometimes annoys the others and he can be naughty, deliberately annoying them. He likes his garden, but likes to stay in and sleep on a chair near his staff, or at the end of their bed.

He prefers dried food but enjoys freshly boiled fresh cod or tinned, dolphin friendly tuna, which they all have every Sunday at 10am. A small amount of oily fish is good for them but we limit it because it can make them ill if they eat too much.

All the family are neutered to prevent any further unwanted kitten suffering and it is possible, because of uncertainty about Sam’s exact age, that he got the snip slightly too early because his miaow has never broken and he squeaks rather than miaows. It is sad if we and the vets did make an error, but it is better than him straying onto roads and fighting with the local un-neutered toms.

He has darker stripes than Ollie or Lottie and a tighter, firmer, coat. He has a tendency to ‘swipe’ so one has to watch one’s eyes; especially when he wakes one up three times during the night to make sure we are there and tell us he loves us. He does not do it to hurt, he is playing but does not realise that his staff have no fur. His daddy is training him and, as he ages, he is getting much better.

Sam takes it upon himself to look after Felicity and will usually allow her to eat before him. She adores him and follows him everywhere – if he goes out so does she; when he comes in, she is never far behind. It’s as if, even at 13 and acting like a  rowdy teenager, he understands her disability and feels protective towards her.

Because he moves so fast it is almost impossible to get a sharp photo of him, but we are training him and more pictures are posted on Oliver’s Gallery.

Felicity was rescued from a building site, where she was living as a feral cat, by Celia Hammond. She had a severely damaged left back leg which was infected and ‘fly-blown’. She was adopted by her staff and there followed a long and serious operation to remove the whole leg. It was a long and painful road and has left felicity nervous of people and terrified of women wearing white (probably because of the vetinary nurses who treated her and who she thinks caused her pain).

It took a lot of work and many visits to the vet but, thankfully, she survived and is about the same age as the others. She is a delightful, intelligent cat who gets about as well as any four legged feline. The other cats look out for her and Sam, in particular, will go upstairs to his daddy to tell him that Felicity is hungry or wants to go out (one thing she can’t really do is climb the stairs).

She loves her garden and has her ‘special’ shady spots where she will sit and watch. Indoors she has a small cat bed in a secluded place where she can watch what is going on whilst feeling safe. She has always been very nervous of people but is gradually coming round and is now one very nosy cat who loves to sit and watch what her staff are doing.

She loves Oliver and washes between his ears for him and he rubs his nose on her and talks to her. As she has got older and more mellowed she now comes running up the garden when her name is called and now likes to stretch out, on a cold winter night, in front of the gas fire and have that beautiful coat combed. Amazingly, although she is still nervous, she will start to purr and stretch out, almost upside down, to have her underside combed and will keep moving to make sure you don’t miss a bit.

Felicity will eat anything and tends to wait in turn until the others have eaten. Oliver being Oliver rarely leaves anything on the plate so felicity’s daddy opens a new tin of something nice, especially for her, when the others are gone.

Unlike the other cats she does not wear a collar because she was older when adopted and always found a collar distressing. She is a most delightful and loving little cat and has adapted remarkable well to her tripedic state.

One thing she doesn’t like is her monthly FrontLine squirt. She says that ladies who dine do not have fleas.

Lottie was born about 1996 in south London. At the age of just a few weeks both her and her brother Oliver were abandoned in a Wendy House (a sort of plastic outdoor tent in the shape of a house which children play in). Fortunately somebody found them and called Celia Hammond who rescues cats locally.

She knew exactly who would be the right people to adopt them. They were only three weeks old, eyes not open; Lottie had enteritis and was so dehydrated that the Vetinary Surgeon had to inject water under her skin to rehydrate her. For two weeks their new parents had to give her special medication and 5ml of special milk solution (with a syringe) every hour night and day; and they were warned not to expect her to pull through.

Both Lottie and Oliver could sit on one hand together and could barely walk; they were so beautiful there are no words to describe them; it was unthinkable that they would not make it. By this time they had their names. At first they were wrongly sexed because they were so young and Lottie started life with a tom’s name.

They both survived and grew into two delightful and affectionate cats, repaying all the effort their parents put in a million times over. Lottie has a flatter face than Oliver and a different pattern with longer fur – it’s possible that although ‘twins’ they may have had different fathers.

Lottie is the little sleepy cat of the clan and rotates around a number of very comfortable sleeping places. She likes to burrow under the duvet in winter and one has to be very careful not to sit on her. She is a very affectionate and tactile cat who will come in in the middle of the night and gently tap your face to wake you up and then subject you to a severe Lottying – that is cuddles, dribbles, snuggles and finally a cosy sleep, often with her head on her daddy’s face. She spends most days supervising her daddy.

She never asks for food but sits quietly by her bowl waiting. She loves cheese and ice-cold milk. She goes wild with CatNip and ends up almost in a trance.

Oliver was born about 1996 in south London. At the age of just a few weeks both him and his sister Lottie were abandoned in a Wendy House (a sort of plastic outdoor tent in the shape of a house which children play in). Fortunately somebody found them and called Celia Hammondwho rescues cats locally. She knew exactly who would be the right people to adopt them. They were only three weeks old, eyes not open; Oliver was weak and Lottie had enteritis and was so dehydrated that the Vetinary Surgeon had to inject water under her skin to rehydrate her. For two weeks their new parents had to give Lottie special medication and 5ml of special milk solution (with a syringe) every hour night and day; and they were warned not to expect Lottie to pull through. Both kittens could sit on one hand and could barely walk and were so beautiful there are no words to describe them; it was unthinkable that they would not make it. By this time they had their names. At first they were wrongly sexed because they were so young and Oliver started life as Olivia.

They both survived and grew into two delightful and affectionate cats, repaying all the effort their parents put in a million times over. At first Oliver was a Mackerel Tabby but his colouration has changed over the years.

Oliver has always had mouth and tooth problems and two years ago he had to have all but his canine teeth removed and has interferon every morning, and special mouth wash twice a day, to hold the disease at bay.

Recently he was losing weight and was off of his food so it was off to the Vet again who gave him a full blood screening and found that his thyroid was giving problems. He is now on two thyroid tablets a day as well. If that doesn’t control the problem he may need an operation.

His daddy works from an office at home and Oliver likes nothing better than to sleep on the laser printer, inkjet or scanner; all of which he manages to operate at some time or other. His other joy is watching the aquarium screen saver and will sit and watch the fish for hours.

He’s a great cat for company and likes to be with his staff and supervise. He cannot eat dry food and to help him with his medication (which he takes in his food) he gets all sorts of lovely tinned food, and every Sunday the four cats share a small tin of Tuna which keeps their coats shiny.

Oliver is very intelligent and has been known to tell his daddy when a delivery man was at the door.

Oliver lives in London, in a house with a garden, with his mummy, daddy, full sister Lottie, step-sister Felicity and step-brother Sam.

Oliver was beginning to lose weight again despite being on his thyroid pills and a further set of blood screenings showed that the pills were not working and his liver and kidneys were being affected so, at the end of February, he had most of his thyroid removed: it was very enlarged and had a big cyst on it. He is currently recuperating well, the operation wound has healed well and he is concentrating on growing back the stripes which the vet shaved off. The operation appears to have been a success and Oliver is much brighter and more active.