My husband believes he has taught She of the Tart-face to jump when he snaps his fingers.

Shame.

True, the other night he sat down in his armchair, snapped his fingers and she jumped up on to his lap. However, there are some wishful-thinking gaps in this scenario.

To start with, when she came sauntering in from checking out the night scene, my husband was practise putting on the living room carpet. He had golf balls lined up and was aiming them at the leg of a stool. In she strolled and sat neatly down on the carpet beside his chair. After watching him for minute or two, she started to throw her eyes towards the chair, and back to him.

"She thinks I'm going to sit down so she can sit on my lap" , he said.

I suggested that she was more likely weighing up her chances of getting his chair exclusively for herself. Her ears twitched and I distinctly saw her give me an over -the -shoulder glance of "you-mind-your-own-business", and then she threw her eyes again.

The next thing I knew was that the golf balls and putter were put away, and my husband was sitting down - with the special cushion that he keeps for her to sit on so that her claws don't dig into him - on his lap.

He snapped his fingers, and she jumped up on to his lap.
"See" he said, "I've got her trained".

Shame.