I may have to sack the cat. Or at the very least complain to the Companion Animals ruling body. Yes, he is affectionate, yes he does run to greet me, yes he does sleep on the end of the bed. But on a cold Good Friday night, where was he? Beside me on the sofa? No; out in the garden. He came in for his dinner, did a bit of nose rubbing and off he went again. I ask you, is this reasonable?