A couple of mornings ago I was woken, shortly before 02.00, by a huge clatter downstairs, and by three of the four sleeping dogs instantly and noisily reacting to the din. They dashed downstairs a-hollering and a-barking. In my sleepy haze I thought one of the cats had probably knocked the container of cat biscuits off the cat feeding station. Raven, I thought. The dogs came back a few minutes later. Because of their swift and noiseless return and the way they instantly settled down, I went back to sleep safe in the knowledge that whatever the disturbance was, it wasn’t someone attempting to break in to the house (or someone breaking out of the house having discovered the mad animals and oddly idiosyncratic humans that live here) and was, most probably/definitely, cat-related. Later (but not that much) that morning, after the first garden poo-sweep, first dogbreakfast, mug of tea in bed for humans, first dogwalk (boys), second dogwalk (girls), second dogbreakfast and first humanbreakfast (definitely is a word, I checked) I went over to the dining table to get my laptop. It wasn’t there. I looked all over the table for it. Then I looked on the breakfast bar. Then I looked at the table again. Then I looked down at the floor at the foot of the dining table. There it was, my precious laptop. So too was the tray the laptop normally sits on. Why On Earth, I wondered, has the good lady wife her indoors put my laptop on the floor. Then I wisely counselled myself. Of course she wouldn’t do that (I said). But how did it happen? So I fired up the playback on one of the cameras I’m playing with, and ran it back to just before 02.00. The culprit is plain to see. Raven pushed it off. The video clip clearly shows her walking across the table (and across the stuff on the table). She reaches the laptop and either tries to jump onto the floor off the laptop or walks across the laptop and overbalances it. Either way, laptop, cat, and tray all hit the floor with a heck of a clatter. No wonder I was woken.