I rescued him. When I turned round, Shebalu was in the earthbox. That hadn't done her Nerves any good, she said. Her bottom began to rise at the thought of it. I dropped Sass and rushed to sit her down.
  Which is why, as I finish this book, we still haven't taken the cats with us in the caravan, though we hope to do so any day now. Not for long holidays. For those they will go to Burrowbridge. But just for the odd weekend...
  We had advertised for a quiet corner of an orchard or a field by the sea in Dorset, where we can be entirely on our own. Where cats swinging from curtain rods, or doing a tumble-drier act in the car at mealtimes won't attract undue attention.
  Maybe if we do that we
could
take Annabel too, says Charles, the eternal optimist. She is
not
going to travel in the caravan, I tell him, even if he
could
construct a ramp. Perhaps we could get her a small-sized horse-box then, he suggested on one occasion. To hook on behind the caravan? I asked, visualising a procession like a Toy Town train. Of course not, he said. It wouldn't take long to run up and down a couple of times from the cottage to Dorset â first with the caravan, then with Annabel in a little box.
  Annabel, in fact, likes it immensely at the Pursey's farm, where she bosses the cows and sheep around. Last time she was there they put her in with the sheep and the ram, and had a fit when he started to chase her. They needn't have worried. The two of them disappeared in a cloud of dust over the rise of the field. A few minutes later they came thundering back. This time Annabel was in pursuit of the ram, who was going like the clappers. They had never seen him so quiet, they said, as he was for the rest of the holiday.
  But the cats... we really do intend to take them one of these days. They are so much part of our lives. We bought the caravan because of them; it is our second home â and what is home without the comfort of cats?