Heat...

The new cat Willow is on heat and is desperate to escape the confines of the house so she can go and get some action with any nearby male cat who fancies a bit of pussy loving.

On the plus side she's acting very lovable and demanding lots of attention so I often go into the living room last thing at night and spend 20 minutes talking to her and calming her down. It may seem a bit mental but I talk to all our cats, even the dead one whose ashes are still in my office, and it's a nice wind-down at the end of the day.

So I go to bed and the Missus turns to me and gives the following advice:
'You do realise that Willow doesn't understand you, don't you? You can speak to her as much as you want but all cats understand is the tone of the voice and whether it's a harrsh tone telling them off or a soft tone being nice to them.'
'Of course I know that...'
'Why do you insist on having lengthy conversations with them, then? When you talk all they hear is blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah...'

I know how they feel but I decide it would not be politic to air this view...