I am spending many hours per day at my desk lately. Late in the morning, I can count on a visit from Cat Watson, now a robust 7 kilos of claws, muscle and floof, who stomps into the study yelling, clambers onto my lap with maximum fuss, and then scrambles up my left arm (it only hurts when I larf) to drape himself over my shoulder, relaxed on the support of my left forearm and his claws sunk into my upper back.

You try typing like that.