Isis now allows me to touch her all over, at least fleetingly and enjoys long strokes and rubs. I even gently fingered her pads today as we shared the futon.

She allows Jo and I to touch her head and I have even been able, very tentatively to brush her dirty whiskers. This, I feel bound to confess, is only when her muzzle is jammed into my left fist attempting to dislodge a tasty morsel.

She doesn’t mind if part of her is touching me as we share the futon but she isn’t very cuddly. If I disturb her sleep with a gentle pat, she springs up enthusiastically and stands on my face.

I get the idea.