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Dorothy lives in Newport in Shropshire with her husband of 55 years. She has 5 children, 7 grandchildren and is expecting a great grandchild very soon! Dorothy's hobbies include gardening and holidaying. Dorothy is a retired civil servant.

My story is about the day we buried the wrong cat because it was identical to ours. I chose to tell it because it always makes us smile.

Transcript:

One morning my husband rushed into the bedroom and told me that Jaguar was dead.

Jaguar was our much loved and affectionate big tabby cat.

Why was he called Jaguar? Well because his predecessor was called Lotus. Anyway, "Jaguar's dead" he said and I said "What do you mean?"

It was still quite early and I am not too bright first thing in the morning.

Our neighbour had called him to say there was a dead cat on the corner and he was pretty sure it was ours.

My husband had been to check and had come back for the wheelbarrow to bring him home.

I was really upset, the house would not be the same without Jaguar. He was never a feline brain of Britain but we enjoyed his eccentricity.

When Richard came back, he lay the cat on the patio. There was not a mark on him. He had obviously been killed outright as he ran across the road.

Richard and I dug a grave and carefully laid Jaguar to rest.

Then we turned around to find Jaguar sitting on the back step. He was eyeing us as if to say "Why are you burying that dead cat when I am here waiting for my breakfast?"

We realised we had just lovingly buried someone else's cat.

After making enquiries we found the owners of Jaguar's doppelganger and explained what had happened.

Jaguar went on to live to a ripe old age. Rumours of his early demise had been greatly exaggerated.