When John and I were married in October 1998, Hershey was still young. My bridesmaid was my half-sister Jessica, who was just eight at the time. She and my father and stepmother Jen stayed with us for a couple of days before the wedding and made the acquaintance of Hershey and Pushkin.

A few weeks later I received this brilliant portrait of Hershey in the post and I have kept it safe and treasured ever since. It’s so full of character; I just love it and always have.

Hershey – who gave the bossiest cuddles I’ve ever experienced – died over two years ago and I still miss him. Here he is enjoying the sunshine on the piano.

That’s gone now too…

There is a shaft of sunlight which comes in the kitchen around 4pm. The late lamented Hershey used to follow the warmth of the sun wherever he could, even if it was shining on a clean frying pan. I promise we washed it before we used it again.

Plus, I’m so glad we replaced the horrible old kitchen.

My much beloved Hershey who loved to ride around the house on my shoulders like a furry scarf. On this occasion, he stayed put even after I put a sweatshirt on. What a daft cat he was and how I miss him.

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.