I’m distressed by the disappearance of our cat — it feels like some ghastly premonition

A few weeks ago my friend James and his wife got a cat. They live in a leafy street in Holland Park, yet they’re so overprotective they refuse to allow Louis out of the house. His wife won’t even leave him alone, insisting they get a ‘babysitter’ if they go out. As the owner of a streetwise, shorthaired domestic called Trixie, I have been mercilessly taking the piss out of them. Trixie has been able to come and go as she pleases via a cat door since the day she arrived from the Mayhew Animal Shelter 18 months ago. She’s jet black and quite petite, like a miniature panther, and more than a match for any neighbourhood predators. The only precaution I’ve ever taken is to have her microchipped.

Then, on Saturday 23 January, I came down in the morning to discover Trixie was gone. She has disappeared before, so I waited before sounding the alarm, but when she hadn’t returned on Sunday morning I sprung into action.