Love me, love my cat.

We have had our cat Ronnie since November now and he is definitely an established and much adored member of the family. One evening I was sitting on the sofa with Bryn (aged 8) when, with a voice full of emotion he said, "I love you."
"Aw thanks, I love you too.", I replied.
"Not you, the cat.", he said.

A similar situation arose a few weeks after this when Bryn was having a sleepover (a violation of the trades' description act if ever there was one) at my parents' house. That evening he rang up, which was quite unusual for him. Why? Because he was missing home; me; his dad; my cooking? No - the cat. When I asked why he wasn't missing me he said that I hadn't got a cute face and he couldn't watch me washing my ears. I explained that I couldn't do an awful lot about the face but that I was willing to give the ear washing thing a bash. He was not amused.