One fine morning, several years ago, I went out to feed the chickens we kept in our back garden; blissfully unaware of the brutal tragedy which was about to present itself to me. We’d bought a nice big run for them and frequently gave them the run of the garden – ushering them back in each afternoon for bedtime. The cats seemed completely unbothered by the new additions to our menagerie. They were very sweet little things. In fact, you’d be surprised at their different personalities. One was scatty, one affectionate, another appeared as thick as the proverbial two short planks. We’d all grown …