We take leash walks. Nysse leads us to sunny spots in the garden, to the gaps in the fence where he hopes to get through to the neighbours’ garden, to the food tin to signal that he is hungry, and to random tufts of grass that are clearly superior to other similar-looking tufts of grass.

And he leads us to the kitchen table, so that I can lift him up and let him to drink from his favourite plant saucers. I’ve reached the point where I’m considering moving one of the flowerpots to his cage, to see if the plant water is better than clean drinking bowl water even when they are side by side.

He is such a sloppy drinker. It always ends with a puddle next to the saucer. I saw somewhere on the internet that cats learn to drink effectively from other cats. Perhaps Nysse’s parents never taught him proper lapping technique.