Well, here I am back in Essex. My cat sitting duties are over, but there are still two more cats to tell you about. Today is Muffin’s turn.

She’s an odd one, is Muffin. My mum got her when she was a kitten (Muffin, not my mum). I must have been about fifteen at the time, so naturally I lived there too, and Muffin was quick to befriend me.

This was quite an honour, because she wouldn’t let anyone else anywhere near her. I discovered early on that she absolutely loved it if I sniffed at her - I think her mother must have had a nasal problem, and by sniffing I unwittingly adopted that role.

We got into quite a routine, she and I. Every day I would get home from school and sit down to watch Countdown whilst eating a Fruit Corner. Muffin would spend this whole time climbing over me trying to get at the yogurt. Then she’d go outside and hide in a bush for a few hours, before coming back in at about eight o’clock and trying to persuade me to go to bed.

She did this by lying in the hallway and running hopefully to my bedroom whenever I walked past. Eventually the time would come when I would go to bed. She would follow me in eagerly, hop onto the bed and snuggle in my armpit where she’d spend the night.

This went on for a couple of years, and then I went off to university. Deprived of her only friend, she gradually started letting other people near her. These days I don’t think she even remembers who I am - I’m just another random stranger now.

A while back I tried the sniffing thing again, for the first time in ages. She was terrified by it.