The cat and I are at war. She is demanding to be fed. I am refusing to feed her on the grounds that she a) barely touched this morning’s meal and b) in any case has plenty of dried food. Her response to this firm-but-fair parenting approach was to sit on everything I was trying to tidy up in the lounge. I dug my heels in and calmly moved her out of the way. She is currently prowling around the keyboard stuhreepping on it periodically and neuodging me every time I troy and tyyype somethong.

Who is destined to emerge triumphant from this battle of wills? That’s right, the cat.