Though she may be a proud defender of her territory, there is a reason why my dad has always referred to her as “a cat of very little brain”. One day my mum came home with a purchase she was delighted with—a large tea cozy in the shape of a cat, with all the cat features, from ears to tail, drawn in. Naturally, when teatime rolled around the next afternoon, out came the new tea cozy to keep the pot warm. It received a lot of admiration from the rest of the family because it had the look of a real cat. This cat looked almost like a king sitting there, guarding the pot, with a half-smile on his cloth face. Suddenly, a slight sound emerged over the clink of teaspoons on china— a slow, steady hiss. I turned around to see Posy behind me in the kitchen doorway, hair standing on end, ears laid back, staring straight at the tea cozy. The tea cozy stared back. Posy edged nearer with suspicion, as her eyes narrowed, while she sent out more hissing sounds as she sized up her rival—a rival who’d