Vanilla, one of our newest feline customers, is an enigmatic, nine year old, British short hair with a creamy fawn coloured coat, and wide orange eyes. When I arrive at her Notting Hill pad, she is staring out of the window as birds flutter around the garden. Vanilla’s slightly misaligned jaw gives her an air of grouchy, insouciance. Don’t let it fool you, Vanilla cares deeply and adores company. She is a playful kitty and loves being stroked but her favourite thing is to be brushed. As soon as the brush touches her cheeks she collapses onto the table and starts to purr. The sound soon escalates from a purr to a rumble like the gentle roll of distant thunder as I start to brush behind her ears. Vanilla rocks back and forth on the table, her paws opening and closing, her neck extended with her tiny chin jutting out and her fabulous whiskers pointing skywards. She is determined that I don’t miss a bit.