My cat came home from the vet’s last week with what they described as a “Hollywood smile”. I had subjected Gordon to a full dental – clean, polish, the works.

But he also ended up having to have four teeth removed, which must have been bothering him, because he’s now got a new lease of life.

It benefited me too – now when I snuggle up next to him and shower kisses upon him, his breath is as sweet as a bowl of cherries rather than the rancid sock drawer I’d become used to.

The treatment wasn’t cheap – nowadays you seem to pay £20 just to step inside the waiting room – but it was worth it to see him happy.

Most pet owners will do anything for their animals, who are currently the focus of National Pet Month. Sadly there are those who don’t, but the majority of us really care.

Sometimes too much. “That cat never gets shouted at like the rest of us,” my husband often says.

It’s true, I do go overboard, taking him for walks, giving him treats, and making hot water bottles (although he’s not the brightest - he will settle upon one even when it’s cold).

I even joke that we’re getting married and put my wedding ring on his paw.

But I don’t fuss to such an extent as some pet pamperers, who buy fancy beds with wrought-iron bedsteads for their cats, make homemade treats (I struggle to cook for the family, never mind the cat), and even massage them. I draw the line at that. One day it will be reiki at home, the next a trip to Champneys for detox.

And I do tell him off, particularly when he attacks dogs.

Recently he gave Georgie, a gentle, 12-year-old boxer, a bloody nose. I apologised and gave her some biscuits as recompense. A white Scottie refuses to walk past and now quakes at the sight of me too, and my heart is in my mouth every time Nimbus, a small, cloud-like fluff ball, trots past.

You can even get hold of DVDs of birds and small animals for cats to enjoy. Cats in the USA (where else?) can settle down to watch Cat TV.

My cat isn’t a great TV watcher, although he once took an interest in the migration of a herd of caribou.

Since he returned from the vets I have been guilty of over-indulging him - ‘Don’t make that bed, Gordon’s on it.” I will say, at 3pm, when he’s been there since morning.

For the pleasure pets give us, they’re worth indulging. Maybe I’ll get on to Gordon’s nails next, and get them cut to help those poor dogs.