Cat sitter in London

I love cats because they like their own space and have a set way of doing things, which is the right way, which we must obey. I get annoyed when people say they're not as loving, because they give an endless amount of love to their human slaves as long as we do as we're told. They're adorable and funny, each with their own personality, and there's never a dull day with them.

My family have had cats since before I was born. The first I remember is Toffee, a ginger tom who hated the two black kittens that we brought home but once allowed my brother to smear face cream all over his fur.

The black twins were Bubbles and Squeak - the mafia don and the purring lovebug. Bubbles was a big and tough wanderer; he played with foxes when he was growing up. Squeak loved nothing more than curling up on someone's lap, and eating cheese & onion crisps. He'd sit on the sofa and dribble at you until you gave him one.

I got my own cat when I was 16 - a little calico called Multi-Cellular Organism, or Tiddles for short. She spent the first few months in my room, waking me up in the night to clean her litter tray or just by sticking her face in mine. She's a whinger, a diva, and an awkward madam, but she's mine and I love her very much, and raised her myself.

For just over a year, I've been working as a volunteer at Battersea Dogs and Cats Home, in the Cattery. Every Saturday, I go to help socialise the cats as well as clean the enclosures and just generally help in any way I can.