I spent a lot of time procrastinating this morning. I checked my email fifty-seven times, I stroked the cats… I even watched a few minutes of Kilroy. But eventually the time came when I couldn’t put it off any longer.

I emptied the litter trays.

This really is an unpleasant job. Shovelling up a pile of the litter and then shaking the scoop to see what souvenirs remain. It’s just like gold prospecting, but for poo.

It wouldn’t have been so bad, but there was a smelly one. I think I know who did it too. It must have been Bella. No one else smells that much.

Bella is an old lady. She’s got no remaining teeth, and she almost never moves of her own free will. She’s on the sofa at the minute. I know, because I put her there an hour ago. She got cancer of the nose a while back and had some kind of treatment, which apparently made it go away. I was hoping it would give her super-powers too, but that doesn’t seem to have happened. It also meant she got to wear a bucket on her head for a while.

Her one pleasure in life is to lick things. Mostly people, and mostly noses. Her tongue is like sandpaper - she’d wear your nose down to nothing if you let her. She could have saved Michael Jackson a fortune.

She looks like she’s been run over and stuffed. One day she’s going to die, and no one will notice for a fortnight.