I've just got back in touch with a good friend of mine. He emigrated and subsequently got married (never was one to do things by halves!). Anyway, when he lived in Warwickshire he had a little family of cats. Can't remember all of their names now. At one time he had 4. 3 Devon Rexs and a Sphinx. Pogul was the Sphinx and the Rexs were Korky, a little black chap that looked like a lamb and a tri-colour.

Why am I telling you this?

Well my friend wrote to tell me that the 'family' had changed somewhat, one of the things that happened was that Korky got run over. I probably saw him last about 4 years ago and I cried when I read the email - yes, I blubbed like a baby. Four years - you'd think that I'd be a little detached about him by now, but no. I don't think I'd have been more upset if it was my own cat. It's odd how you can be so attached to someone or something that you are no longer attached to!