Every night when I start cooking, I have Henry’s complete attention. He watches my every move. He tries to get up on the counter to check out if there is anything for him there. He might try more than once. When he doesn’t get what he wants he retires to his box on the ironing board from where he keeps watching me across the room.

Today I was making a bolognese sauce and I put a little bit of beef mince to the side with Henry in mind. When the sauce was bubbling on the stove, and I had cleaned the counter top I put the mince in one of his dishes. He gave me the beady eye. I was expecting him to jump down and come closer. He didn’t twitch. I lifted the dish and waved it. He remained stony-faced. I started to lower it. Still no reaction. I finally put it down in the usual spot where he eats his food. He stayed in his box.

He ate it later, when I wasn’t watching. No way would he admit that I have some kind of power over him. If only through food.