Yes, it's heartbreaking isn't it. One correction: in my distracted state of mind I misspelled his name, it's Dylan (yep, after you-know-who).

We got him from a local rescue centre when he was about seven years old, back in January 2004. At the time he was called Bramble, which seemed a bit off given that he was a big bruiser of a cat (19lbs and no fat – he was just big). He was black with white chin, tum and feet.
Apparently his first years had been spent on a travelling canal boat and he used to go AWOL often so his owners eventually got fed up with him.

When we chose him, he was sitting upright on a worktop away from the other cats in the room and he never took his eyes off me from the time we walked in to when we left. We took to him straight away.
When we brought him home he walked all round the house, downstairs and upstairs, purring like mad, and he settled in immediately. He loved lying on the settee with us although he was never that affectionate, which we put that down to his previous existence (during which he had developed a curious fear of kitchen tin foil).

Better day today for both me and Judi, but a little early to be thinking about another cat. We're lucky in that the house isn't empty because we have Timmy the tortoise (who's been out in the sunshine today) and Bobby the German Shepherd. Bobby's another big bruiser, weighing in at some 90lbs, but like Dylan he's a gentle giant – he even got pushed into the canal by a smaller female Shepherd on Wednesday morning!

Thanks for all your kind thoughts, it's much appreciated.

Pete and Judi.