I never had a cat before Wilkie. In fact, as a child, I disliked them, and they would always climb on me. I'm a dog person, and having a cat was nothing I ever expected.

It happened when once I was walking in the park, and a garbage collector came up to me, and asked if I wanted a kitten. I didn't. But he showed me two recently born fluffy golden kittens sheltering under a bush. That did it. So I went home and spoke with Jeremy, and he was very excited, and we rushed back to the park with a box and looked under the bush. Nothing! We searched for a while. But how were we to find a kitten in the vast expanse of the park? We returned home with an empty box.

Telling the story to Charlie, who'd long been pushing me to get a cat, resulted in him finding online news of someone in search of a home for newly arrived little kittens.

Jeremy and I went there, and the woman of the house clapped her hands, and out from under the sofa scurried an assortment of tiny kittens of various colors. But I had eyes only for the fluffy, sandy one. I picked him up - he fitted into my hands - and looked into his huge, round, light blue eyes, and at the downy, sandy fur on his back, and great depths of thick white fur on his tummy. He purred and I was smitten.

I called him Wilkie, having just read Wilkie Collin's amazing novel, Woman in White.

But what did I know about cats? Having only been a dog owner, I projected a vast amount of dogginess on Wilkie. On command, he sits for treats ('Good Boy Drops,' I call them, after the not-bad-tasting English chocolate discs for dogs). And he gets exceptionally excited with the arrival of the postman, and often has been known to bring me one of the letters, a little tooth-mark still apparent in the corner of the envelope.

And no light "cat-like tread" for Wilkie; he'll clatter down the wooden flight of stairs with a resounding "umph," and will noisily crash around with his toys.

Wilkie is definitely a cat with character. He can be catatonic, with a definite observable schedule - the rocking chair in the study in the morning, the rocking chair in the living room in the afternoon, and a dining room chair in the evening - and then he'll just as quickly catapult himself into action.

He's also very conversational, especially at mealtime. I'll say, "Do you want your food now?" and he'll say "Now!" We'll repeat this a few times, until I pour the food into his bowl. Then he'll noisily purr as he's eating, especially if I brush him with the fantastic comb from Jen, at the same time.

I used to think Wilkie's face was impassive, unlike dogs who mostly seem to smile at me. But I was wrong. Wilkie's heart-shaped pink nose with a freckle on it, plus his large round eyes (which have now turned green) liberally express a range of emotions.