THE actress Drew Barrymore was reported last week as having such a strong affection for her cat that in the event of her predeceasing it, she wishes to have "a little of my ashes put in his food, so that I can live inside him." This bizarre desire says more about the particular woman in question than it does about cats or indeed actresses, but it is certainly true that some people find it a lot easier to relate to cats or dogs than they do to others of their own more complicated and less predictable species.

Even the great Albert Schweitzer is on record as having said "There are two means of refuge from the miseries of life - music and cats."

Clearly, he would have been a fan of Andrew Lloyd Webber.

When I was playing Doctor Who, I made the mistake of taking liberties with the famous Kipling quote and suggested that the good Doctor was like that cat who walks by himself and all times and places are alike to him.

This idea was seized upon and I found myself with a cat badge on my lapel.

My predecessor, Peter Davison, had had a stick of celery on his lapel, so I think I got the better deal in the symbolism stakes. I certainly found it easier to justify mine, even down to the nine lives bit.

But having nailed my feline colours to the mast, I then found myself the recipient of caterphenalia from all over the world from generous people who shared the Doctor's affection for cats.

Recently I had to institute a cull.

Some several dozen pottery cats, pictures of cats and books about cats joined other household items at a table top sale at a local village hall.

Intriguingly the cat items were snapped up at such an alarming rate I wished I had been a little greedier in the pricing of them.

When I was a child we had a black and white neutered tom, named Parker - I think because of his nosiness.

Some years later we acquired a bull terrier called Bonzo.

Parker made no effort to tolerate the newcomer and moved out. He didn't go so far as to put the stick with the spotted handkerchief over his shoulder and head off into the sunset, but he declined to enter the house, and for nearly a year would only deign to sit on the garden wall so that we could bring food out to him.

Then one day Parker leaped through the open window strolled indolently across to an armchair, the upholstery of which he gave a considerable seeing to with his claws before stretching and settling down for a nap.

Half an hour later my father came home and told us that Bonzo had been run over and was dead.

Parker, of course, knew before we did. He was perhaps an associate of T S Eliot's Macavity the Mystery cat who was "not there" when crimes were committed.

Someone sage recently suggested that it was unwise to meddle in the affairs of cats "for they are subtle and will pee on your computer."

In the main the dog versus cat debate is a non-starter.

Sometimes we need to be blindly adored by a compliant and ever forgiving canine.

Other times it is therapeutic to be on the receiving end of the condescension of the free spirit who chooses for a moment to bestow upon you the pleasure of his company, and purely coincidentally benefit from the warmth of your lap.

Though that pleasure can pall when it is preceded by the unwelcome gift on your carpet of the inedible bits of small rodents.

The difference is summed up by one Jeff Valdez "Cats are smarter than dogs. You can't get eight cats to pull a sled through the snow".

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.