Tessa is happier than ever in her new home. “Your mum bought this place for you, Tessa,” a guest reminded her with amusement on Friday night.

So we gear up for the big adventure outdoors, a life as an indoor only cat soon to be reborn…

We are watching new friends from a distance. Mr Sleek Grey is a regular, a noble grey puss with shining eyes and a silken coat. He was playing with leaves on our lawn today, little knowing a captive audience beheld his every move.

We are blessed to share our lives with these others, their antics only serving to enrich our minds.

I believe that cats were sent to teach us, these intelligent souls have so much to offer mankind, loyal but independent companions. May our pets live on forever…

… a new era of freedom.

Two weeks in to our new home, my beloved Tessa looks with intense interest at our garden: a simple piece of lawn crowned with small patio, but to us even simpler souls it is a little piece of paradise.

Tessa has always been an indoor cat. Her outdoor adventure is soon however to begin: supervised at first, bedecked in a harness, but we will take it slowly from there. One day the grand goal of a CAT FLAP may arise.

What joy, to allow an indoor only cat her first taste of real nature (mixed with some inevitable trepidation in case she runs off…).

But for now, we melt in to the moment and enjoy a present tense of new house, new territory and a new lunge at life.

I happily lost many hours of my life at the cat pens: but they are not lost, they are diamonds in my hands as memories sift through them. 2002, so long ago but so near in clear recall. Pip and Lucky, coaldust black kittens with rare jewels for eyes. How I loved them, they reminded me so much of my childhood cat Emily. They were playful but not mad with mischief as some kittens are; theirs was a contained adventure, timid paws patting the raw delight of life.

Lucky survived to live his cat’s tale; Pip passed away soon after rehomed, I believe it was a car accident but could be wrong. I hope her days at the pens filled her short life with the love and affection she so deserved; happy memories to be with her in the everafter.

Tessa’s sleek black fur shines in the winter sun, as her eyes dance with timid curiosity. Why all these visitors? Who are these people who I have never seen before – and I sense will never see again? Change is rising on the horizon, and inevitability is in the air, times are turning, turning in to … what?

Tessa does not know yet, but she will be moving house, to a larger space hopefully with garden to roam in.

Her lottery ticket to a better life is spinning.

Slowly Tessa licks her fur, and quietly ponders her feline fate.

Soon … her destiny will dawn.

… but may animal rescue shelters continue forever.

Yesterday after 11.5 years I concluded my time as a Cat Pens Sunday volunteer. The final cats I cared for were as ever lovely each in their own unique way. Meaw, grey puss with mysterious eyes, vortexes speaking of other worlds … Fudge, tortie and white delight, ready for some affection. Oscar, a black and white being of joy and playfulness. Dill, grey giant of dignified gait, enjoying a leisurely stroll in the outer corridor. Kaikee, quirky and exuding character, a black beauty with a home lined up already. Finally Leon and Khan, two pretty females who adore (head kissing) each other.

An end of a feline era, and the beginning of new ventures on a Sunday morning: writing my feline inspired children’s novel, progress now to be charted each week.

And more cat pen musings to come: as over the next few weeks I embrace nostalgia and remember some of the more colourful or just simply adorable previous Cat Pen residents.

Christmas is a time of caring and festive fun, so let’s not forget our feline friends at this special time. Their hearts are of honey, sweet souls who crave affection. So a very special hug filled Christmas to Mum’s cats Edgar, Julius and the dignified Rose, who have turned today in to a miaew medley of musical magic, a cat’s guide to harmonic companionship. To all cats everywhere, a very happy feline festive period, may your purrs fade in to forever.

Peace has painted a pattern of quiet joy around the pens, an invisible web of delicious destiny, a future to yearn for.

For homeless cats are being homed! For the first time ever in my 11.5 years of volunteering, the cat pens were half empty on Sunday. The vacant pens were full of the promise of a better tomorrow for all.

The cats who were there: Libby is as adventurous (and still a litte bit hissy) as ever, a handsome dark dilute tortie who needs a large garden if not fields to enliven with her frisky presence. Molly (pure white cat straight from a painting of feline perfection) and Milly (gorgeous tabby) enjoyed a stroll in the outer corridor. Newbies Twinkle, Star and Comet played to their heart’s sweet content for as long as I could let them in the corridor; they are all tabbies of various description, one fluffy, one short-haired with some white, and the youngest (still a kitten) complete with stripes and spots.

I look forward to next week when we undoubtedly will have a full house again!

… sleeps with the finality of feline abandon, a state of infinite relaxation beyond many humans.

She is deep in this tranquil paradise of feline cares: one day, I dare to join her, and forgot this earthly strife.

But for today, I will just watch, and smile.

All was at peace, the world asleep in a cloak of star-studded black. It was hard to conceive of any horror within the still night sea, an unmoving ocean of unimagined depth.

But all was not at peace in Amy’s bedroom. Rigid, she lay awake, eyes focussed on the stick-on-stars above. If she stared hard enough, really really hard, perhaps she would magically go there: to a star in another galaxy, to a world where school bullies did not exist, to a paradise where being happy was reality, where taunts and jeers were but dust in the sun’s rays, where you could just be, be and be. A place just for you.

Amy was six years old but already had the keen cynicism of a sixty year old. People were mean. End of story.

But this story will not end there. As Amy nervously clutched her long blonde hair, a turbulent sea across her pillow, a sound of purring pierced her tense ears. The ferocious waves of disquiet within were soothed by the calm of feline song.

Amy put her hand out, but there was nothing there. The stars on the ceiling stared soullessly down, no answers there. But the purring was real, a melody of warmth in her ears, the song of real stars. Slowly she fell asleep, dreaming of a land in which she was Princess Amy, popular, unbullied.

And still the purring was in her ears, as Tonto slowly awoke. He licked his silken black and white fur. He had done it again, soul-walking as he dreamt. Unshed feline tears pricked dry eyes. Such a sweet child, so much distress in her head. So he had healed her with his magic purr.

Tonto’s stomach somersaulted. Soul-walking always attacked his appetite. In the kitchen his bowl was soon empty, and then he climbed back in to bed, hearing another child calling.

The next morning, Tonto’s mother, Susan, let out a sigh of frustration. “Tonto’s dish is licked clean again! He would never have eaten all that. The neighbourhood tom has been here again!”

Tonto rubbed round her legs, and purred his mind-misting music, eyes shining with inner knowing.

As Amy dressed for school, she knew what she would do. Stand up for herself. The bullies would not tear her apart, not today, oh no. A hushed purring in her ears, resolve rose in her heart, and confidence cartwheeled in her head. Today was the first day of the rest of her life.

Tonto climbed on to Susan’s lap, and purred. The sea of life was still, nightly fears erased by the light of day. Susan fell asleep as Tonto continued to purr. The magic of dreams claimed the day, and all was at peace.