DO you remember when you were small and cardboard boxes were manna for the imagination? Fuelling creativity, in the blink of an eye, they could become a castle, a ship, a racing car, a rocket zooming through space....the possibilities were endless.

Now the box to which I am referring arrived back in January. It was a small, brown, relatively innocuous, cardboard box, containing two books which I had ordered for my daughter’s birthday. When it arrived, the box was placed on the dining room table while I examined its contents and there it has remained ever since as now, I simply don’t have the heart to move it.

You see, within minutes of the books being removed, Miss Teddi cat had squeezed her, not-inconsiderable, self into the cardboard vessel and dreamily set sail on her adventures. With one paw dangling overboard she reached out to catch hold of pencils and the handles of my shoulder bag, as she bobbed passed on the "high, dining room table sea".

Crouching down behind one of the flaps, which were now standing bolt upright, a paw appeared, swiping at imaginary intruders who just might be considering storming her fortress, and so it continued.

Eventually, overwhelmed by all the excitement, Teddi curled herself up and turning around and around on top of the crumpled paper packaging which was still in situ, she promptly fell fast asleep, with cardboard sides bulging, ever so slightly.

You would think that three months later the novelty would be wearing a wee bit thin, but nothing could be further from the truth. Every evening, at around seven o’clock, I hear the rustling of paper and the squeaking of over-stretched cardboard sides as Teddi squeezes herself into the now, ever so slightly, misshapen receptacle.

It’s not as if I don’t provide an assortment of cat and dog beds (placed for convenience), in most rooms throughout the house. Not forgetting the giant floor cushions, the fluffy blue cat tunnel with the sides that rustle appealingly and, of course, for optimum surveillance and comfort combined, there is always the back of the sofa; but not for this cat.

In February I did try to move the box onto the table in the conservatory, but it just wasn’t the same and hence, a petulant puss simply took up residence on the dining room table itself, in the space where the box should have been.

We think that perhaps she likes the warmth from the table lamp that shines down upon her as she rests her chin on the squashed cardboard sides, eyes half closed as she dreams of sipping Pina colada in the Caribbean.

In a not too dissimilar vein, Teddi’s box fixation reminds me of an incident that happened some time ago now, when my son James was taken to meet his wife’s grandmother.

Naturally, he wanted to make a good impression and all was going well until the ladies disappeared into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, leaving James sitting in the chair next to the fireplace.

Suddenly, he became aware that something was moving just above his head and the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand on end as the wall cupboard door swung very silently and very slowly open.

Before he had chance to utter a word (in fact if truth was known I think his cry for help had frozen in the back of his throat), a small tabby shape leapt out of the warm fireside cupboard and landed on the back of his chair.

The cupboard, apparently, was "Spooky’s" favourite sleeping place and yes, that was the cat’s real name, and how very appropriate don’t you think?