A night of hell

is coming my way, and it's started already. Millie hasn't been given anything to eat since mid-evening, in preparation for her operation tomorrow. If she were a toddler, she'd be lying on the floor screaming and drumming her heels; as she is a half-grown cat with an evil owner who is cruelly starving her, she is throwing herself round the house, on mantels and cupboards, up and down the worktop where the cat dishes usually sit, and making it clear that the evil owner isn't going to get much sleep tonight. Lottie and Kevin may survive the night without their small-hours snacks, as they have had a surreptitious supper while Millie was locked in the sitting room, and couldn't see them, but Millie knows...oh yes, she knows.....

This can only get worse, I suspect. Roll on, morning.