Oscar is nineteen, and black and white, with battered ears. He was a stray, but started hanging out at these lovely people’s home, until he became like a beloved child. I’ve travelled down from a sit in Scotland with a cat that bit me, to care for Oscar and his house for ten days. I do have to watch myself with him, but he’s a great character. Though the night he spends an hour or so standing above my head with his claws in my hair is a bit unnerving.