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‘The cat, which is a solitary beast, is single minded and goes its way alone; but the dog, like his master, is confused in his mind’

H.G. Wells

THE CATHEDRAL

Unlike many of Britain’s cathedrals, the final shapes of which were more or less determined in the middle ages, St Edmundsbury has acquired its present appearance since the 18th century, with the central lantern tower only recently completed.

Little of the substance of the original Benedictine Abbey of St Edmund remains, but there are some interesting remnants – the rebuilt abbey gatehouse, the excavated footings of the eastern end of the abbey, and the curious site of houses incorporated into the ruined western end of the abbey church. The present cathedral is half the length of the old abbey, which gives a pretty good idea of the scale of the original monastic buildings.

With a home that borders leafy abbey churchyard grounds, a ruined castle and a large cathedral, Daisy and Lazarus have one of the most extensive territories of all the cats in this book. And for a cat named Lazarus, what more suitable territory than a graveyard!

Catherine Todd, Rector of the Horringe Benefices, her husband Andrew, Residentiary Canon at St Edmundsbury Cathedral, and their three children, Benedict, Hannah and Lydia, live in a Georgian house that fronts on to the main road. Bury St Edmunds is a busy town, so the world outside the front door is a no-go zone for the cats. Fortunately for Daisy and Lazarus, the back of the house gives onto safer territory. It overlooks the delightful tree-lined promenades and crumbling gravestones of the old abbey churchyard, and enjoys a fine view of the entire length of the cathedral, complete with its magnificent new crossing tower. I was curious to know how far the cats roamed within this vast area, and Catherine thought that they went no further than the old abbey church. But I saw Lazarus nipping around the east end of the cathedral and heading for the knot garden and castle with the determination of someone who knows exactly where he’s going.

The graveyard is Lazarus’s favourite playground

The cats came from different litters of British Short-hairs. Lazarus was a weak kitten who had been abandoned, and the breeder placed him in the same litter as Daisy to see if he would revive, which he did – and received his name in tribute to the unexpected recovery. My brief observations of both cats don’t entirely align with those of the family. I was told that Daisy is more adventurous than Lazarus, but it was Lazarus that was slinking along the side of the cathedral, Lazarus who stalked off confidently in the direction of the knot garden and ruined castle; Daisy was just rolling around on an old gravestone and hiding under a neighbour’s car.

The two cats live together in a state of entente demi-cordiale. They’ll occupy the same room, pass relatively close to each other – and that’s as far as it goes. Lazarus will insist on having the occasional tussle with Daisy; no one is sure why, as he always comes off worse. With this relationship of grudging tolerance in place, both cats generally go their separate ways.

The gardens and riverside meadows are a popular place for picnics, but the two cats have not yet worked out the tourist potential for acting as a team. Maybe neither has the need, as Daisy has found out that chapter meetings can be pretty productive, especially in other people’s houses, where she can anticipate a variety of menus. For his part, Lazarus has developed some very strange food habits, principal among which is a passion for granary bread.

Daisy, lurking by the cathedral

Both cats have followed the construction of the new cathedral tower, from the shelter of the ruined western end of the old abbey church. The scaffolding has provided limitless opportunities for Daisy to view her kingdom while Lazarus, unimpressed by her acrobatic feats, is more interested in finding a friendly baker.

Lazarus: a passion for brown bread