Daphne

I got Daphne from Battersea Dogs and Cats home as a nine-week-old bundle of fluff the day after her predecessor, Blossom, had died aged 18 and a half because I couldn't bear the cat-shaped hole in my flat.

Daphne was busy playing on the floor, far too busy with her toys to pay any attention to the humans, and she was enchanting with her spark and independence. The carers said she'd been bought in aged about six weeks by a woman who'd found her in the street; they thought that her rescuer had probably happened along just as the mum cat was moving the kittens and that in fact she'd probably been on her way back for Daphne.

She'd been fostered for three weeks before being ready for adoption; I took her home that afternoon. She was an amazingly confident kitten, had already scoped out my flat within an hour and made herself at home.

She's now coming up for two and her favourite things are playing Fetch - when she wants to play she drops a ball at my feet - and muesli. Yes, muesli. She also likes hanging out in the sink and playing with a running tap, and she's also on Twitter