This noble thing with Mummy Puss seems to be working too well. She’s now decided not to sleep on my bed, on the grounds that, purposefully or not, I kick her off when I’m asleep. Also, she has now become supernaturally fussy with food. She’d prefer to eat what Mum and I eat. She virtually believes she’s human. She has, however, perfected the art of rolling over. Mostly, she does this when I come home from work if it’s not raining, once on the driveway, once on the path, and lastly beside the doorway. Always in exactly the same place. Each time, I bend down and give her a rub on the tummy, although, for Mummy Puss, this is not the purpose of the exercise. This is her way of saying hello. What’s your day been like? I missed you. It’s twelve minutes past four.

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