I suppose you could describe me as a crazy cat person.  I love my two cats only a touch less than my own family (sorry Santa).

So, when I woke up this morning to find the front door open and the house one cat down, I, quite understandably in my opinion, threw a wobbler and put the household on red alert. The cats have never been out the front and encountered the delights of Portsmouth's road network.

Worse still, the missing cat was Chester.  Chester has cat 'learning difficulties' and struggles to find his way out from under the bed nevermind the Big Outside World. To illustrate, here is a pic of him at his weedy kitten stage.

I got dressed (realising only after the incident that my t-shirt was back to front and inside out - making me look even more like a crazy person) and hit the streets armed with two food bowls.  After an hour of searching, I heard his weedy howls from a neighbours house - the little fecker had wormed his way into number 8 (unbeknownst to his host) and was cowering under the table.  He is now sitting on the keyboard and thwarting my attempts at typing.  I am happy. Here endeth his Big Adventure.