It is grey and damp and there is a steady drizzle of rain falling, making the view from my window look like static on a TV screen. The cat sits on my knee. She curls herself into a ball and suckles for a while, scratching her claws lovingly along my arm. The skin lifts, tears a little, it’s like an itch but more painful than that. Not painful enough to make me move my arm away. She falls asleep that way, her head curled against her chest, and she snores lightly, meowing now and again when I move my hand and it wakes her. A little, sad meow. She is warm against my stomach, her fur is like velvet in places and rough in others. If you stroke her back leg she retrieves it, moves it away from your hand. Other paws you can hold in your hand and she won’t move at all. She is black and white, her colouring reminds me, at times, of an orca whale and I think this would have made a good name though it isn’t the one we chose. It is like having a toddler, her warm body curled sleepily on my lap and me trapped here, waiting for her to wake.