With the death of Pushkin yesterday, I’m feeling nostalgic. This is Pushkin’s brother, Hershey – a chocolate point, naturally. He was cross-eyed, knock-kneed and had a heart murmur. He was also the bossiest cat I’ve ever lived with and would ride round the house on my shoulder like a parrot, shouting in my ear. My mother, grandma and best friend clubbed together to buy Pushkin and Hershey for me. They were the first cats I ever owned myself and now they’re both gone.