A young lady knocked on my door in the summer of 1997, she had a very
large cardboard box with her and in the box were 2 very frightened,
jet black, 6 month old kittens. she had found them in her garden when
they were about 3 months old and it took quite a while before they
trusted her enough to let her pick them up and bring them to me.

All I saw of the pair of them for weeks and weeks were 4 shining eyes
as they hid in the wardrobe or under a chair, but gradually one of
them, Patch, decided that my feet were worthy of investigation and
from then on every time I went into their room I had a large kitten
attached to my foot. PB (Patches Brother) was not so easily won over
and he continued to hide until the time I found a home for his
brother.

Gradually PB started coming out from behind the chair, he would sit
and watch some of the other kittens come and eat treats from my hand
(there were about 15 of them living in my back bedroom). One day he
found the courage to accept some of the offered treats, not from my
hand but off the floor close by. Eventually I managed to stroke his
head and that was it, love at first touch, we never looked back.

By the time PB and 10 of the others had been with me for a year it was
clear that they weren't going to find suitable homes, some of them
like Big Tabby and Sherpa were still untouchable, but they had formed
a family of sorts. DH and I decided that they could live out their
lives with us and we moved them into an enclosure in the garden.
Eventually we released them all, it was like all their dreams had come
true, they climbed the trees and for a while 11 cats could be seen
sleeping in the middle of the pollarded Horse Chestnut tree. They also
took over the greenhouse, we used to laugh about there being more cats
than plants in there during the summer months. They chased bugs,
rolled in the grass, chased leaves and snow flakes, pounced on each
other and played tag...they were truly happy.

PB became my horticultural expert, he would instruct me with a gentle
nudge of his head where to put a plant and woe betide me if I ignored
his opinion. Many a morning I've gone out into the garden only to find
my carefully arranged flower beds re-arranged. Once I learnt how to do
things PB's way he would sit on the bench and supervise my endeavours
with gentle meows and mrrrupps to let me know he approved.

One of PB's favourite times was summer mornings when I would go
outside to eat my breakfast, he always insisted on having the last few
spoonfuls of milk from my cereal, and all the other cats knew - after
having their ears well boxed a few times - that this was his special
time. Actually PB always considered that first and foremost I was his
personal slave and he would bop anybody he thought was getting to much
of my attention - this even applied to DH who he wouldn't bop but he
would insinuate himself between us.

Having PB sit on your lap was quite an experience, he would hang on
for dear life using all the natural crampons that Bast gave him. Every
year from May until October my knees would sport a fetching array of
red spots courtesy of PB.

For a feral cat PB was exceptionally gentle and well behaved even when
visiting TED, which thankfully was not that often, about 7 times
(including yesterday and today) in 9 years. Not one hiss, baring of
fangs or scratch, no matter what was done to him.

Over the years many of PB's friends have become ill or injured and
we've had to say goodbye to them. Picasso, Dusty, Sherpa, Bibi, Roley,
Minstrel and now PB are all waiting at the bridge......till we meet
again old friends.