Emmeline was the daughter of the butcher's cat across the street, and a doughty huntress and fighter. When still quite a kitten, she tackled a large black-and-white tom who liked to come into our yard and sun himself on the outside sill of my sitting room window, and of course that's how she got her name. She also delighted in teasing Ingo, the watchdog, who spent much of her life on a long chain in the yard; Emmeline would settle down about six inches out of the dog's reach and solemnly wash herself in every possible corner while her nemesis howled with frustrated rage.

I worried about Emmeline's hunting habits, however, because rabies was endemic in our area and the local farmers would shoot on sight any dog or cat seen on its own more than 200 metres from a house. Emmeline came home once with a water rat that was darned near as big as herself, which she had to have caught near a pond or stream. The nearest watercourse to the village was a good 500 metres beyond the last house.

My mother had a cat named Noodnik whose mission in life was clearing the house of shrews, a common pest in Manotick. Shrews taste nasty, so she would slay them and place the corpses on the kitchen doorstep.