As a compulsive cat lover I found Mary Richards' article quite delightful, and I do agree that it is important to choose the right names.
My love affair with cats began when I moved here over four decades ago, and a neighbours tabby, Jimmie, decided to spend a lot of time with us.
When Jimmie died, we felt we had to have a cat of our own and got a tiny grey kitten that we called Muffy, after a cat in a Henry Reed play.
Later we took on Lulu, a gorgeous tri-coloured long-hair whose owners were emigrating. Next on the list was Tristan who came to me as a pathetic little scrap but grew into a handsome, very affectionate boy whose death I still mourn even though he was nearly fourteen.
Soon after acquiring him, I took his half-brother Merlin, a pure white long-hair, who sadly died of cancer just as Lulu had done. Later came a little ginger who simply walked in and insisted on staying. I called him Rajah after a tiger in the television zoo vet series, years ago.
The next acquisition was a rescue cat called (not by me) Bruno, a gentle giant that I did not have for very long, due to my own illness, but he was taken into a good home and so was Rajah.
When Tristan died I got a black and white female from Cats Protection, but she disappeared one day and I never found her. She was an inveterate wanderer. To replace her I got Finnoola, a London-born tortoiseshell who has proved the perfect companion as she is more like a dog and follows me round everywhere, sleeping on my bed.
For a few years I gave a home to Sam, another rescue cat, a lovely friendly tabby who liked licking hot milk from a saucepan on the stove. He died naturally of old age and I miss him too, but was relieved not to have to have him put to sleep.
Last but not least is Declan, a marmalade and white tom who was in need of a home, and is the naughtiest cat I have ever had, and the worst thief. His passion is chocolate and he smells it if I am eating it or making cocoa. He makes the most extraordinary noises if anything displeases him, such as rain which he hates and seems to think I am responsible for. I never heard such hissing and growling! But it means nothing, and Declan is a very lovable cat, as indeed they all have been.
Just when I had decided that two cats were enough, along came Rhiannon, a pitiful little stray tabby, all skin and bone, and crying for food. I could not turn her away and I am sure I saved her life, for she has been with me nearly two years, is fully recovered, and a sweet, loving little thing.
Those interested in names will note that five of my cats, Tristan, Merlin, Finnoola, Declan and Rhiannon, have had Celtic names, all chosen by myself.
I have loved them all and would not be without their company.
MRS EVELYN SCOTT BROWN.
Liskeard