It's almost three months now since I did a drug deal with one of my colleagues on a street corner in Brighton, and successfully plundered the personal effects of a dead animal in a last-ditch attempt to feed Chloe's crack habit. There's a sentence I never thought I'd write. To be honest, it was deal which saved my cat's life. She's perked up no end ever since, and is threatening to outlive us all. Which is bad news for Am's nose.

Sadly, despite cutting down the dose of Chloe's tablets, she's beginning to run low, so I'll be returning to the vet in the next fortnight to pay through the nose for more drugs. But whilst Chloe's freeloading days are coming to an end, Shimmy's are only just beginning. Having already experienced the benevolence of one cat-owning colleague, I've now had an offer of help from another.

It transpires that Shimmy's not the only slut in the neighbourhood. My colleague owns one too. And having been presented with two litters of kittens in a short space of time, she decided to invest in a puppy cage, which she used in place of a nursery. For anyone not familiar with puppy cages, they're like shark cages, but less waterproof. It's why they used the phrase 'Top Dog' in Prisoner: Cell Block H.

Anyhoo, my colleague has kindly lent me said cage to enable me to provide a safe and secure environment for Shimmy to raise her kittens, without fear of interference from Amelie. As I see it, there are two methods by which I can achieve that aim.

This is Option A...

And this is Option B...

I'm leaning towards B. It would give me more of a lie-in in the morning.