Small, furry, possessed …

So we still have that spare cat.

For those who were busy over the holidays and missed the story, my friend M has moved to Manchester for 13 months, taking her family but leaving her cat. In a moment of madness, Mr B and I suggested we could mind it. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Cookie HATES her.

She hates Cookie, and Monster, and everyone and everything, except for pats, food and fanging your hand when she has had enough patting.

Monster is mostly oblivious occasionally stops on her journeys though the house, looks concernedly into the corner, then trots up to me with an expression that says, 'Look, I hate to bother you, but were you aware there is a spare cat behind the sofa?'

Moushka, or Corner Cat as she is often known, comes out now and then to hiss at everyone. She and Cookie are equally high up in the I Am Put Out And You Will All Suffer stakes, though I will say for Cookie that she is focussing her suffering on Moushka, while Moush is happy to nip and hiss at everyone. Poor little muppet, she can't be having fun.

We have at least brokered a demilitarised zone between Moushka's corner and the litter tray area, and Cookie and Monster have stopped attempting theiving runs on Moush's food, but I fear that an escalation in hostilities may be imminent: Moushka has started sitting up on the sofa, which is Monster's Spot.

I will probably end up grabbing kitty Prozac. And taking it.

I filled Mr B in on last night's hissing attack runs and was told 'It's just like having children.'

'Well, not really,' I said. 'I'm out in the living room having to referee everyone and you're safe in the study playing computer games.'

'So it's EXACTLY like having children,' he replied.

I'm locking them all in the study and heading out to a spa …