You might have heard mention of Johnny over the past few years. A scraggy mess of a mog with a gammy eye and perpetually battered and torn ears, who announces his arrival (and departure) with a blood-curdling yowl. He’s been around nearly as long as Shest and vaguely associates himself with the neighbour behind us. Given that Shest is nine (!) this year, Johnny can’t be far behind and this is quite an age for a street cat with a strong propensity to fight – especially as he won’t have had any of the usual jabs.
So when we caught a glimpse of Johnny in our headlights one dusky evening a few weeks ago looking oddly lean with blood all over his haunches, we were worried. He’d disappeared by the time we’d parked.
Days went by and we didn’t see him – of course we thought the worst.
Continue reading “Johnny Be Good”