...and then there was Henry, my daughter's cat some years back. A charming handsome fellow, but a few bricks short of a load.
You had to be careful where you left your glass of milk, or before you knew it he'd be dipping his paw in. He was very keen on rooftop walks and naps, and this was nearly his undoing.
We were all out in the garden one fine summer day, when suddenly the air was rent by what sounded like nails being scratched down a blackboard. Looking up, to the top of the steeply pitched 3 storey house, we saw Henry, flat against the slates, front legs outstretched, slowly but surely sliding backwards towards the guttering.
Would he stop? Would he go over the edge? Could anyone get there in time to catch him? The tension was unbearable, but there was more to come.
He did slide over the gutter, but managed to get a paw onto it, and was left swinging by his claws for what seemed an eternity. By this time I was in a position to try and catch him as he fell, as he surely soon would.
But when he lost his grip, he somehow managed to swing inwards, landing on a first floor window sill. From there it was a daring leap to another window sill at right angles to the first one, and the a slide down an adjacent pipe.
For some reason he was never as keen on rooftops afterwards.