Upon one occasion, towards the end of a long hot summer, Clawed planned to take a much longer evening stroll, right down to the sea front, which would be quieter now that the school holidays had ended and the children had returned to their urban homes.

Being an elderly cat, he was happy to receive an extensive brushing from his Old Mistress, who also renewed his collar and placed a gold plate medallion in between his bell and the magnet key for getting back home later.

Clawed searched out his favourite old straw hat, much worn and dilapidated, and his stoutest cane and set off down the road, passing Cleveland Bed and Breakfast on one side.

"No pets!" said Clawed to himself, reading the sign, "macow, yet I know that nice lady likes pussy cats, so it must be in case any new guests are allergic to our fine fur."

The road down to town and the sea front was quite steep and Clawed made a small detour into the display garden where you could often find a bed of catmint to relax in and let the worries of the day pass you by. He also expected to see one of his friends and sure enough, Sheba, a most handsome half Persian puss, was playing coy with a couple of tourists who were sitting on a park bench whilst she rubbed and rolled around their knees.

"Oh, hello, Pussy Cat!" called Clawed, "Mirrawacow, you need to be careful you're not catnapped Sheba!"

"Macoh, I'm very selective with the visitors," she replied, "I can always tell which are decent, respectable people. My own family are hardly ever in at home so apart from regular meals I receive very few signals of affection."

She jumped onto the elderly gentleman's shoulders and rubbed her cheek against his ear.