I’ve been rather absent from the blogosphere lately, only managing the occasional quick visit. A few disruptions to my usual routine — along with a small hiccup in my own health — have kept me from settling back into my normal rhythm. Not that my routine is ever what you’d call normal — there’s always some minor drama or spontaneous adventure popping up to keep life from getting dull.

But enough with the excuses — I’ve been itching to introduce you to the feline visitors who are utterly convinced my home is their personal kingdom. So, without further ado, dear reader, allow me to present the first instalment of the furry visitors who more or less run my life. (Thank you to their humans for allowing me to blog about their pets)

I don’t know what it is about our place that attracts the feline species, but over the past three years, no fewer than four different cats have made our house their second home. 

When we retired, we made the decision not to have pets. Our plan was to spend long stretches adventuring in our caravan, and national parks don’t allow fur babies. As lifelong animal lovers, both domestic and wild, this was indeed a huge sacrifice. For a while, our only joy came from the pets of our children in Cape Town and Plettenberg Bay, or from friends who brought their dogs and cats along when they visited. 

A few years before the feline invasion, two feral bunnies used to visit. They brought endless entertainment, hopping through the garden and nibbling at the greenery. Sadly, one disappeared and then the other. Rabbits like to be free, but freedom comes with dangers—from dogs and birds of prey to locals who see them as lunch. Their absence left a quiet gap in our garden life. 

Then came the day our neighbours introduced their Siamese kittens to the great outdoors. Within minutes, those curious explorers had scaled the dividing fence, with young Syd hot on their tails. The Earl and I were in the garden at the time, and he wasted no time in encouraging them to investigate every corner. That moment marked the beginning of a joyful change in our lives. 

On that fateful day, we were introduced to Alan and Mike. These two quickly became regular visitors, padding through the garden and into our house as if they owned it. Their presence brought laughter, companionship, and a sense of connection we hadn’t realised we were missing. Alan, however, soon revealed himself to be the bossy one—his loud, commanding meow keeps even Mike in line. 

Next came Mimi, a little ball of grey furriness who rolls over and purrs the minute she sees you. She doesn’t want to be picked up—just strokes and tickles will do, thank you very much. At first, Mike and Alan resented her presence, but eventually a tolerant truce was reached. Mimi lives across the road, and the Siamese had already met her before she began visiting us. I’m convinced Mike is secretly in love with her, though Alan insists on being the only cat in charge. 

Most recently, a smart cat in a tuxedo began hanging out in the garden. At first, he would dart away whenever we approached, much to the Siamese’s delight. But eventually, he allowed us to pet him, and soon nothing could stop him from coming indoors. For months we called him Peanut, until I eventually tracked down his owner and discovered she was a schoolgirl who called him Charlie. (This young girl’s mom and I later connected through a series of blog posts I did for the company for which she is the marketing agent – small world!)

Charlie is his own man—aloof, dignified, and uninterested in laps. He’ll rub against you and accept a pat, but he ignores Alan’s hissing and screaming until he’s had enough. Then, a chase and a cat fight ensue. Because Alan was here first, he gets preferential treatment, and we whisk him off to the bedroom when tensions rise. Charlie, however, seems deaf to our pleas to visit only when Alan isn’t around. He and Mike aren’t exactly the best of friends but they tolerate each other.

So now we have four regular feline guests: Alan, Mike, Mimi, and Charlie. Each has a distinct personality, each has chosen us in their own way, and together they’ve turned our home into a lively stage of feline drama and affection. 

We may not have set out to be pet owners in retirement, but life had other plans for us. The cats who wander into our house remind us daily of the joy animals bring, even when they aren’t officially “ours.” They’ve turned our home into a place of unexpected companionship, and for that, we’re grateful.

Watch this space for more stories about these curious kitties.