MY name is ‘Bonnie’. In 1961 I was considered to be a rather beautiful tabby, but I am not looking quite my best in the photograph.

I had just suffered the most terrible experience of all my three years and to my friends at Salisbury Gasworks, I was known as the cat who escaped sure death!

It was a Sunday afternoon and I was having a quiet stroll round the gasworks near my home. Suddenly, I found myself hurtling downwards into an awful black place which I’ve since heard called a 16’ tank for the No. 3 relief holder. There was cold water and tar all over the bottom and I struggled for hours trying to find a way out. My back legs were absolutely stiff with cold and I began to think I would never see my home and mistress again. I continued to call out but after two days trapped, my voice was getting very weak indeed.

Then, wonder of wonders, a face appeared above me and I heard men’s voices calling. Jack Moody, the good looking fellow in the middle of the photograph (and father of that other good looking fellow, Frogg Moody!), was being lowered by Mr V Hook, the other kind man in the picture; together they rescued me. Then my mistress, Mabel Bugden, arrived – she is thanking my rescuers in the picture, and believe me I am purring gratefully enough!

But I was looking far from ‘Bonnie’ and some of my beautiful fur had to be cut off because of the horrible tar. The final indignity was to be plunged into warm soapy water and practically scrubbed. Still, I was given plenty of fish from my missus’s fishbar which helped with my convalescence. Rest assured, I never went near that gas works again!