A cat in the home

It's definitely time to make a scratching post for Mango Kitty. The pain as she shins up my shins, digging her razor-sharp claws into soft flesh as she strives for her goal - my lap - is no laughing matter! My legs are criss-crossed with scratches resembling the contrails over the skies of Europe. At least I'm not 18 any more and can't wear short skirts. It looks as though I've been chased through a bramble bush.

But when she is settled on my lap, snuggled into a tiny ball, all head and ears and her paws soft and silky with claws retracted, she is so cute I could squeeze her to death (figuratively). It's been 12 years since we had a kitten in the house and one forgets what an important dimension they bring into the home. The ideal way to sustain this atmosphere that seems to bring out the best in people would be to get a new kitten every year, but then I would have more cats than I care to have and I would be labelled the Mad Cat Woman, and I'm definitely not in that category.

I just like a home with a couple of cats who lie around, surveying their territory with regal disdain, and occasionally lie on the bed to keep your feet warm in winter.