Having cats is a wonderful thing. They’re friendly, funny, soft, warm and entertaining and they look great in front of a roaring fire.
But at the end of my innings when I see the play back of my life and how I spent my time, I wonder how many frames are going to be devoted to me standing at a door peering outside at a cat whilst uttering:
“Well, are you coming in or not?”
and the cat just looking at me with a combination of pity, curiosity and contempt before casually turning away and showing me its backside.