"He's everywhere," says the farmer. "He's so full of joy," says a friend.
He's twice been spotted wading on the beach. I thought perhaps a baby seal was stranded in a saltwater puddle.
A closer inspection revealed Pele, apparently thinking he was hidden from a flock of oystercatchers.
Everyone of them had him in his sights. He took a step towards them, they took two steps back.
I find it odd to have a cat jump onto the toilet seat as soon as I leave, then inspect the flushed and swirling contents with the intensity of a hydrologist.
Pele's interest in vehicles has regular visitors checking their car's interior to be sure he's not inside when they leave. Hatchbacks captivate him.
His most bemusing achievement: shutting himself in the farmer's ute. One day I met him on the road. He jumped in and continued the journey home perched on the dashboard as relaxed as you please. Our vehicles are constantly patterned with his muddy footprints.
When he finds me outside, he follows – through paddocks, into the garden, along the beach or up the road.
If I'm off for a long walk and he follows, I return home and shut him inside. The first time I couldn't be bothered, he came the best part of a kilometre along the beach and would have kept coming if I'd kept going.
The second time he ventured far along the road. He has to be near exhaustion to surrender and be carried home.
Pele was in seventh heaven for the two days Pony wasn't well. I was constantly outside walking the horse – and so was Pele.
This time, though, he went a large step further than bounding through the paddock or sitting atop the post where Pony's tied, so he can play with her lead rope.
It was chilly, so I covered her, then off we went along the road beside the beach. At an opportune moment, Pele jumped onto Pony's back and rode her in crouching position.
Pony's ears went back and she picked up her pace, remarkably mild reactions given horses are a prey animal and a favoured attack method by predators was to jump on their backs. After about 50 metres Pele bounced off and skipped home beside us.
Pele has climbed trees, cars, dressing tables, wardrobes and, most remarkably, onto the ledge above the french doors. How did he get there?
A chimney sweep is coming soon. We mustn't let Pele see his ladder. Our cat, Dot, who like Pele had Siamese ancestry, shot up a ladder then stood on the roof mewing piteously.
So high, so scary, so stuck!
And soon she was saved. The farmer came to the rescue and carried her down.
