Unfortunately, it wasn't heavy enough to do its job properly, and the door was always about four inches less open than it should be — almost the same as if we didn't have a doorstop at all. When my brother died, I tried making a stand out of some of the old Penguin paperbacks I was going to give him for his collection, but the results weren't great and my wife didn't like the idea of a pottery cat standing on four varnished paperbacks as a doorstop anyway.
That's OK, I went with plan B. I got my wife's father to fill the cat with concrete:
It works a treat, and has the added bonus that I could use it to fell a burglar if I came across one ransacking the house.
This happened before Christmas, by the way. I've only just got around to blogging about it...