Keogh the cat : the humans are back off holiday

Because the weedy kitten Kightly wouldn't go to a cattery, which I was quite looking forward to - change of scenery, change of toms serenading me - we had to share our house with a cat-sitter.

Bloody strange bloke. Rolled his own sweet smelling cigarettes, didn't cook meat and watched the Adult Channel.

I think he watched the Adult Channel, anyway: either that or they've introduced some very unusual - and painful - moves into American wrestling.

Anyway, Kightly did her usual 'sucking up' trick, rubbing round the bloke's flares and jumping on his lap. He made the mistake of stretching out his hand and said to me: "Are we going to be friends, Keogh?"

It was a good four days before his fingers had healed sufficiently to roll one of those big cigarettes. On the plus side, when I hissed, did that chap jump.

I'm not the jealous type, but as soon as the Lockleys returned with their luggage they were all over Kightly.

Julie - the wild-eyed, older female human - scooped the kitten in her arms and nuzzled her, cooing: "Have you missed us?"

They kept me at bay with a broom. That was to stop me from ripping the head off the toy camel they'd brought home.

I think it's a downright cheek that the humans can disappear for days without warning. I'm just amazed they found their way home.

We cats have a reputation for travelling many miles to return home, but even I'd struggle after being dumped on a Mediterranean island.

When they went missing, it was a cause for celebration.

When I went missing, they stuck posters up around the village. 'Missing cat,' they read. 'Gingerish' - which I'm not. 'Answers to calls of Kightly'.

Nothing about 'good sense of humour', 'loves going out at night', 'hates smokers'. There wasn't even a reward.

No wonder I didn't return for four days.