A pet is a symbol of virtue, its happiness a test of our humanity. This year it’s also a marker of electability…

My friend Shay has acquired a cat. It started when her family got a kitten, but then the kitten attracted a stray, who entered the house and ate all the food, much like that awful tiger who came to tea. He’s a big guy, muscular, itchy, needy, and they took him to the vet, to discover he was unchipped. They put up posters, they asked online if neighbours had lost a cat. “Enjoy your new cat!” said the neighbours. The vet’s advice was not to feed it or pay it any attention. The cat shelter’s advice was to feed it and love it.

They compromised, with a bed in the shed and food outside. Foxes used the bed as a toy – the cat stoically remains at their window. Along the way, Shay’s young daughter has named it Mr Fish, a name both formal and disgusted. I have enjoyed my Mr Fish updates, not just because it’s very funny seeing my friend compelled to care for an animal that, to quote, “gives her the ick”, but because I am refreshed by the admission, in a time when our pets have come to define us, that our relationships with them can be… complicated.