There is a free evening newspaper in London you can pick up on the way home from work, or wherever, handy for checking the weather forecast, or cinema listings. Or Pet of the Day. I always check it out - guinea pigs, dogs, cats, snakes vying for their fifteen minutes of fame. Our cats are much more low key, stay at home, sit by the fire in the warm kind of cats. I think they had deprived kittenhoods. They were both rescue cats from the Celia Hammond Animal Trust and one of them is definitely slightly deranged, dismayed by garden brooms, wind, and being picked up. Celia comes and checks you out before she'll let you bring a cat home and then manages to persuade you that you should take two even though you only really wanted one. But then, I came home a couple of days ago and there was a "surprise" for me. My son's friend had brought us a kitten. I have not yet quite got to the bottom of why he thought that was a good idea, other than we are clearly suckers. And he was right. She has captivated us all with her kittenish ways - playing with balls of wool, washing her face so delicately, looking pretty. The other two are huffy about it and have established a bit of a caucus in the front room, giving us haughty looks. All to no avail, I'm afraid. Here she is... and here she's staying.