My brother Dan was having a clear-out recently and he sent me this old picture of our lovely cat Steve McQueen. You can read the story of her miraculous arrival in our lives here.
Steve’s story ends sadly. She went missing and we worried about her for a week. One evening, a neighbour knocked and we learned he’d found her dead, locked into his summer house. We don’t know if she was ill and crept in there, or if she died of dehydration and hunger. It makes me tearful to think about it, even over 20 years later.
It’s taken me 3 months to get round to installing my scanner software on the MacBook Pro. It’s done now and I can bring you a few old pictures.
This is me in my mid-twenties with Steve McQueen, the rescue cat. This is her story:
She was one of a litter of kittens my step-father was asked to take to be put to sleep, because no homes could be found for them. He was very busy that day, so the kittens had to spend a couple of hours at his office. They escaped their cardboard box at some point, but were collected up again and taken to meet their fate.
Later in the afternoon, a little furry face emerged and it was discovered that one kitten had avoided the fatal vet visit. Although more of a dog than a cat man, John couldn’t bring himself to go the vet’s a second time, so he brought the kitten home. Because she had made a Great Escape, we all felt there was only one possible name for her.