Olive first came to live with us when our neighbours headed overseas for a prolonged stay. She was about 3 years old then.
That first night we kept her in the kitchen. She must have been terrified, because she spent the night going through the cupboards, pulling stuff off the shelves and taking a bit out of almost every packet. Looking back on it, I wish we’d kept her in a carry case where she could have felt safer (and been more confined).
Over the next few years Olive terrorised our fox terrier. Olive would wait in ambush behind an open door and swipe poor old Harriette as she went past. Olive would also take chunks out of us if we were in the wrong place at the wrong time: she just loved coming in to the bathroom when one of us was fresh out of the shower. She’d rub round our wet legs and then turn and bite. We soon learned to keep the door firmly shut.
Now Olive’s the senior pet in the household. She has two dogs and two other cats to boss around, and, of course, us. She’s becoming a little frail, looking a little thin. But she has mellowed considerably, and is still one very fine cat