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Is our neighbour’s cat. His name is Drew. He spends a considerable amount of time in our house, sunning himself in our window, drinking our milk – warm, we warm it for him, froth it, in fact, with the espresso machine, eating the cat food we buy for him (we have no cats of our own). In return, he steals our toast, attacks us,   draws blood.

He’s not a very nice cat so why do we feed and water him, put up with his violent mood swings and afford him every home comfort at no small inconvenience to ourselves? I have no idea. We’re not even cat people yet he seems to exert some strange hold on us like a feline Tony Le Mesmer.

We’ve heard the tales, how he can eat an average-sized family out of house and home in no time at all (we already knew), how he came through an open window to steal a roast chicken from another neighbour’s kitchen. How his own family have put a child lock on their fridge in a vain* attempt to stop him getting inside and consuming everything. The 3 large dogs who share his home must wait till he has taken his pick from their bowls before they can eat. None (not even a Jack Russell),  dare cross him.

*They’re on their 4th, now. The previous 3 lie ruined, defeated.

If you see this cat, run, fast as you can for he is the spawn of Satan.

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