Cats are connoisseurs of comfort.

For years I used to bore my wife over lunch with stories about funny incidents.

A farmer once told me one of the greatest luxuries of his life was to wake up early only to go back to sleep again.

I seem to have spent a good part of my life - probably too much – in just standing and staring.

Over the years I knew her she always looked at me like that - as though I was a quite pleasant but amusing object - and it always did the same thing to me. It's difficult to put into words but perhaps I can best describe it by saying that if I had been a little dog I'd have gone leaping and gambolling around the room wagging my tail furiously.

I have felt cats rubbing their faces against mine and touching my cheek with claws carefully sheathed. These things, to me, are expressions of love.

No animal is a better judge of comfort than a cat.