On the Border

The problem has been solved;-meet Indie (aka Dyson). After becoming ill and taking up squatters rights on our bedroom stairs, we were forced to seek out his owners. So at around an hour approaching midnight and with a quickly printed photo, we set about searching out his owners. At the first house we tried, we struck lucky. She wasn't the owner but knew who the cat belonged too. After trying at their door we had no answer. There was lights on in the house but no one seemed prepared to answer. I can't actually blame them,"Would you want to open your door at that time of night?" Lucky enough the first lady had their mobile number and was able to stir them out of their self-imposed hibernation.
Then just after midnight and like a scene from Cinderella, a group of us huddled perched on our stairs trying to entice the cat to relinquish his claws from the cat like grip in the pile of the stair carpet. Eventually he gave in and was whisked home, minus the carriage and footmen. Apparently the owners had gone on holidays and had left the next door neighbour to feed him. Unfortunately two weeks is a long time to a cat, and he had taken it upon himself to frequent all the neighbouring gardens looking for his owners. The fact that we have three cats and an A La Carte menu always on tap, was enough to convince him to hang around with us.
Obviously, he is now over the worst of his ordeal, and still comes to visit us regularly, bringing his appetite in tow as well!