I wonder if my cat really loves me...

“Dogs are obviously better,” said one, “because they’d try to save your life if your house was on fire, whereas a cat would run off to save itself.”

She paused, then delivered the killer line: “Plus, Hitler liked cats didn’t he? And Mother Theresa had a dog.”

I have no idea if either of those nuggets are true but they certainly won that particular argument.

Silence quickly ensued, undoubtedly instigated by the cat-lover.

And I felt her pain - I’m also a ‘cat person’ and quite frankly, it baffles me.

My six-year-old rescue cat, Toffee (we didn’t name her), is a fur-shedding fairweather friend who ignores me unless she’s hungry or wants to go outside.

She’s nasty to anything smaller than her, as a succession of half-dead mice have proved, and she gets her kicks from the pre-killing torture she enacts with a strange look of glee on her furry little face.

She’s also a loud, un-snoozable alarm clock we can’t change from a default setting of ‘5am’.

A dog would accept me as its master whereas Toffee demands I accept her on her terms, but is never quite ready to tell me exactly what those terms are.

But figures suggest cats outnumber dogs three to one so although I don’t understand it, I’m obviously not alone in enjoying this warped, one-sided relationship.

I find myself buying fish, proper meat and treats for her every week and, when she deigns to look in my direction, I tell myself she likes me after all.

“Look at her sitting on my knee!” I exclaim in wonder to the The Fiance, as she digs her claws into my leg to try and find a spot she approves of.

“She’s just cold and wants to steal your warmth,” he replies.

He may have a point - as soon as the radiator comes on I’m abandoned.

But every night I nod off to sleep with her snuggled up under the duvet, purring into my left ear.

It’s like sleeping while wearing a really soft, furry scarf which also doubles up as a hot water bottle - and you certainly can’t do that with a dog.