You only have to look at their behaviour. If they’re not knocking back poisonously fermented grains and grapes, they’re reaching for a cigarette or stuffing an anti-depressant down their throats. Even the woman who feeds me has a cupboard full of asprin.

Me, I’m pure. And I intend to stay that way.

Why do I have to be force-fed drugs?

Whatever the reason, it bodes no good for me. It means I’m off to some place I don’t want to go to.

Remember that swanky ‘cat motel’ I was dumped in? Nothing but some ordinary, run-of-the-mill cattery with big pot plants and piped bird tweets. What a rip-off!

See one boarding cattery and you’ve seen them all. Dismal places. I’m not going. I refuse.

Or could it be I’m off to the Vet?

I wonder if it’s something to do with my teeth tooth. I have no desire whatsoever for anyone to be poking around in my mouth, I swear I will savagely maul any hand that comes near me.

Best to pop off for a nap in some inaccessible and totally out of the way spot where no one would ever dream to find me and ignore anyone calling my name. Goodnight.