She rushes in like daylight, cotton-fresh and full of promise, unfurling her long-legged self over the arms of a comfy sofa. Our mild-mannered cat, Benjy, on sighting her, scurries out of the room. She can’t stop laughing..

Me: It’s not funny. It’s really not good you know….that he has that reaction to you..

Daughter: Cat needs a psychiatrist.

Me: No, he needs you to stop calling him ‘Ian’, ‘Felicia’, ‘Furry Fool’ and…he needs you to stop..

Benjy saunters in, halts me mid flow..

She raises an eyebrow, Benjy takes a step back, then another, getting ready to pounce or run..She leans in, looks at him with a gaze holding more mischief than malice.. Benjy’s wide-eyed, entranced, slightly disturbed, and that’s it, they’re locked in…It’s a strange ‘love-you-hate-you’ silent Spaghetti Western with me as the peacemaking Sheriff..

Benjy retreats…into the hallway…

Daughter: Bye bitch.

Me: For God’s sake..