Beardie Sam had been invited out to lunch.
He was very excited - and kindly included me in his arrangements, which was how we came to arrive at his hostess's home, known locally, and to Lewis-the-post, just as 'Beulah'.
This was not far from where we lived but belonged in another world.
Small and wooden, it stood deep in its riotously colourful garden just beyond some sand dunes that we could see from our upstairs windows.
Sam was in fine fettle at the prospect of some nosh laid on especially for him and hurried me there, his tail purposefully in the air.
We were the only guests - but oh my, given the size of the premises, there were a few too many residents! Seven or eight of these raced out to greet us as we reached the little wooden gate at the end of their garden path.
Their various barks did not sound altogether hospitable and I saw Sam's enthusiasm falter for a bit.
But the enticing smell coming from the kitchen soon had his nostrils quivering, so we both braved the reception party and ventured within.
The front door was open, as apparently was customary, and once we were through it other smells mingled with those of cooking.
The air was heavy (and somewhat oppressive) with the distinctive odour that can come from animals far outnumbering humans.
Just one human lived in this menagerie - and she appeared as we reached the end of the tiny hallway surrounded by leaping canines and watched by what seemed like a hundred cats lying or sitting on every available surface in the small living room.
"So you found us?" Megan said, wiping floury hands on a heavily stained apron.
"Sit down if you can find somewhere to sit and I'll bring us a drink.
" It was a big 'if' - but Sam, who was not used to cats, helped in this.
There was a fat tabby asleep on the easy chair Megan had indicated and Sam soon woke him up and sent him packing, straining on his lead as he tried to go in pursuit.
It seemed wise, with temptation lurking for him in every nook and cranny (and there were a good few!) not to set Sam free.
But it was no easy option either to keep him on his lead.
Each time a cat streaked across the room Sam did his utmost to streak across it too.
Whereas the dog-residents had settled down on their various chairs and blankets, many of them sharing this accommodation quite amicably with a cat, Sam was on red alert - never relaxing his guard for a moment.
Megan returned with two glasses, one of which she handed to me.
Sam wagged his tail expectantly.
"So you're thirsty too, are you?" she asked him.
"Or is it hungry you are?" "He's rather finicky," I told her.
"That's through being an only child," she explained to me pityingly.
"He'll like my stew, though.
" Hoping so, while Megan went to fetch some for him from the pan she said was always simmering in her kitchen, I tentatively sipped my drink.
This had fur floating on its surface and tasted intriguingly like sherry diluted with cat-pee! Fortunately, a nearby plant looked thirsty...
To my utter astonishment and relief, Sam pounced on his stew as if he hadn't eaten for a week and didn't stop guzzling until his bowl was empty.
He then raised his head and looked at Megan, wistfully licking his lips.
Uttering the magic words "It's more you want, is it?" she went on a second expedition to her kitchen.
When Sam had demolished his next helping it was our turn and Megan led the way through to her minuscule dining room, which overlooked the tangled back garden.
She was a woman who could never turn away a stray so this room, too, had its feline population.
A cat slept on the dresser, next to an uncovered butter dish, and soon another one was stepping gracefully over a bowl filled with fruit salad.
A third leapt onto the table and made its way across, sometimes between, sometimes over, the plates and dishes assembled there.
Then Sam went to work, bouncing and barking until the table cat at least retreated, leaving a sprinkling of hair in my salad.
After examining my cutlery, when Megan's back was turned, I gave this a surreptitious wipe on my skirt.
As to the haphazard grey 'pattern' round the rim of my mainly white plate - I discovered with a wetted finger that the greyness had not been put there by the manufacturer.
Oh dear! Closing my mind to any further discoveries and trying not to choke as I swallowed cat fur, I managed to dispatch most of my salad.
I drew the line, however, at eating the green caterpillar that drew attention to itself just in time on a lettuce leaf.
It wasn't the most relaxed meal I've ever had but I couldn't fault Megan's well-meant generosity to Sam and me and she's certainly a generous hostess to all her guests.
But when, just before we left, she invited us to come again I'm afraid I incurred my Beardie's displeasure by being a little vague as to when we'd next be free! Copyright: Pamela Glynn