We are a nation of animal lovers.

It has long been proven. There are countless boutiques popping up for you to dress your dog or bling your bagpuss, hundreds of charities for animals and countless TV programmes about pets (who remembers pets win prizes …classic British game show that one).

People say your a dog or a cat lover and although I prefer cats, I wouldn’t mind a dog either. Everyone uses the term ‘Oh crazy cat lady’ as a derogatory and I think to myself ‘live alone with the cats …that sounds AWESOME’. It’s even my life ambition to have a llama farm (as well as to slap someone with a fish and finally finish the scarf I’ve been knitting since I was 10).

You do have to ask yourself though, if you maybe spoil your pets too much. Although they are usually faithful companions (until they piss in your boyfriends shoe the first time you bring him home to meet the family) it is probably not a good idea to let them rule the roost. My two cats have been bought up to believe they are the most important things in the house along with the coffee maker. Due to this, they may act, un peu spoiled.

My youngest, likes to feed himself if you are a bit late for dinner, and opens the cupboard, pulls a pouch of cat food out and puts it on the kitchen floor. He also knows that Mum uses her phone alarm to wake up and feed him, so it the door is open he will sneak in and knock it off the table onto her head.

If I stay out, I can always tell if my Mums had a lay in because she has a black eye and is not speaking to Albert.

Our other cat, Lily Allen, is what I can only assume to be the result of Satan and Tracy Barlow having kittens. I have spent the last 4 years more or less a prisoner in my own home being hissed at and spat at every time I try to walk past her. I like to get her back by spreading rumors about her to the other neighbourhood cats, and as a result she has no friends and never gets invited out with Albert.

A new game they have invented over the last few weeks is ‘lets scratch and howl at the bedroom doors at 3am’. I am someone who enjoys sleep probably more than I would enjoy winning the lottery, so you can imagine this is not behaviour I condone. To combat this behaviour, we have now had to treat our house like a shelter and leave open EVERY door so the curious kitties can get in where they want.

We also have to go round of an evening and hide anything they may play with like hiding crack from Phil Mitchell in his week long addict phase.

The other night, I heard the food bowl being moved around the floor around 1am and thought ‘WHAT DO THEY WANT FROM ME?’. At my wits end, I ran downstairs only to see that cat flap go (you may be thinking thats risky what if it was a burglar, trust me I would of scared him off with my knickers with bears on and Ramones T shirt with more holes in than a cheese grater – its made the way down to the end of the ‘t shirt lifecycle’ which is: out t shirts – gym t shirts – bed t shirts – used to clean shoes). Still half asleep, my Mum shouted from her room to ask what I was doing.

‘one of the cats was making noise again, I came down to see why’

‘Both the cats are in with me on my bed’

So there you have it. Not only are we being woken up by our own pets but all the cats down the fucking street think its a free for all as well.