WHERE are all our missing pets? Thousands of dogs and cats across the country are missing – special websites contain galleries of cats and kittens, dogs and puppies, pedigrees and mongrels. You name it, they’re there, separated from their owners.

Now one of our cats is among them. After being attacked almost three weeks ago by a loose dog – for the second time in a year (different dog, different owner) – our cat has not returned home and we fear the worst.

We have done all the usual things, knocked on doors and put up posters, but have had no luck.

But what has been heartening is the response from other people. The local missing cats group, which I didn’t even know existed, went into overdrive, asking its members to look out for him.

Neighbours and local people I had never met before joined the search, helping to check under hedges and bushes. It is good to know how many good, kind people there are out there who will help in a crisis.

It is a terrible feeling, having a missing pet. As anyone who owns an animal will confirm, they are like family members. Our other cat, his brother, has been miserable since he disappeared.

People go to great lengths to recover missing pets. Last year I met a woman whose collie dog disappeared in the Midlands while on holiday. She had spent thousands travelling from her home in Bradford and back, and hours publicising the search.

Her dog, Jake, has his own “lost dog” Facebook page.

Some cats are more prone to go missing and some spend weeks away from home before returning.

One of our previous cats would stray for miles. We would receive phone calls from his many hang outs, ranging from a fish and chip shop, where he rubbed around the legs of customers, to a Sainsbury’s store. I spent almost every night calling him and wandering about in my pyjamas tracking him down.

It was exhausting and we were relieved when our next cat turned out to be exactly the opposite.

The last cat we owned also seldom ventured far on his own and could usually be found sitting in the same spot at the side of the drive.

When he died, pressured by my daughters, and against my better judgement, we took on two kittens, who, as they grew, became dissatisfied with our garden and the meadow beyond. Further on, the environment is heavy with dogs, so we live in a state of perpetual anxiety.

It is not knowing what happened to our cat that is the worst part – but until we know more, if you hear someone calling “Arthur” in the middle of the night, chances are it will be me.