My F2 Bengal cat Cato had been an only cat since I got him as a kitten in February 1998. I decided to adopt a new kitten on the advice of Vicky Halls, Cato's Feline Behavioural Therapist. Although he was in therapy for his attention-seeking behaviour, Cato was no basket case. But idle paws are the devil's workshop, as the saying goes. I work mainly from home, but Vicky said he would benefit from some feline company. Her parting words would come back to haunt me, "Don't get a timid kitten, choose one that approaches with confidence."

I took my kitten shopping very seriously. Out came the cat encyclopaedia. I needed an indoor cat with a predictable temperament so there would be no compatibility problems. The Bombay fitted all the criteria. It was an added bonus that they were black. I had to give away my beloved black cat when I emigrated to England from the USA in 1977 and I've had a soft spot for black cats ever since

Little did I know how rare Bombay cats were in England. I must have made 20 telephone calls to breeders in the back of Your Cat magazine without success. It wasn't until I rang Pat Impson's number that I finally had a ray of hope. She said Jon Trotter might have some kittens and gave me his number, kindly wishing me good luck.

I rang Jon and he said he had a litter of Bombays, and that there was one little male that might be the kitten for me. Two weeks later, when the kitten was 12 weeks old, fully inoculated and ready to go to his new home, Cato and I drove up to Suffolk together to see if this might be the confident kitten we were seeking. I enjoyed seeing all of Jon's beautiful cats, and got to see the dam and sire as well as the rest of the litter. Then Jon introduced us to Trotkatz Lunar Boy. Cato and the little Bombay hit it off immediately. There was no sign of aggression from either cat, only friendly and playful overtures. After assuring Jon that the little one would have a secure and loving home, I gratefully welcomed our new friend, his pedigree and his papers. Jon's wistful expression as we were leaving touchingly revealed just how much his cats mean to him.

Both cats slept soundly on the back seat of my Mercedes for most of the two and a half-hour trip to London. It had been a long day for everyone.

When we got home to my Chelsea flat, I took the cats in first and went back outside to unload the car. On my return I looked for the new arrival thinking I would show him around, starting with the litter tray. To my surprise, he had already found it. To say he made himself at home would be an understatement. From the moment he arrived as a wee scrap, he took on the role of king of all he surveyed, including Cato and me.

It was pure entertainment to watch such a tiny bandy-legged fuzzy-coated kitten strut around the flat holding his chin high and his tail even higher, full of his own self-importance. It would seem that when the Great Cat Goddess makes Bombays, she whispers softly into their ears so that no other breeds can hear, "Never forget you are special cats. You are superior to all other life forms, including human beings."

Both my cats came with Pedigree names, but as T.S. Elliot explained, cats also have a name they call themselves. So just like in the story of Rumplestiltskin, I had to guess their names, trying out every name I could think of until they would stop what they were doing and look up at me inquiringly. When the newcomer finally answered to Pip, I had no way of knowing just how fitting that name would be. First and foremost, he is a little Dickens. And, being on the small side, he's a Pip-squeak. Last but not least, he's a black cat, like the musicians called the Pips that backed up Gladys Knight. Cato appropriately calls himself after the character played by my friend Burt Kwouk in the Pink Panther movies because he likes to pounce out of nowhere.

Cato and Pip immediately became the best of friends (and partners in crime). They play-fight and romp together. Afternoon naps are spent with leopard-spotted limbs and jet-black legs overlapping. Grooming sessions have become mutual admiration society meetings. They often mimic each other's body language, like cat and copycat.

Although we have no shortage of cat beds, Pip has always preferred to share mine. He will only sleep in the middle of the bed. Off to one side just will not do.Not much progress has been made since the very first night I brought him home while he slept peacefully under the duvet next to me while I lay awake all night for fear I would go to sleep and accidentally crush him. Now I lie awake instead of moving to a more comfortable position for fear of disturbing him. Even though I have a business to run and he plays all day, he still makes me feel that his sleep is more important than mine.

Pip is a cat of many talents. He has trained Cato to queue patiently while he helps himself to the contents the large Bengal cat's supper dish. He fetches as well as any canine retriever, and he rolls over on command. If a visitor brings a bag into our flat, he generously pops one of his treasured toy mice into it as a gift. He is obsessed with string of any kind, but is banned from playing with it for safety reasons and will gratefully accept a stick of dry spaghetti as a substitute.

Pip has a sweet and loving nature that wins the heart of everyone he meets. His ardent enthusiasm for involving himself in everything I do is both flattering and endearing. Luckily, he is a well-behaved cat most of the time, as he tends to view any attempt to discipline him as flagrant insubordination.

So, as a result of his therapy, Cato has gained a valued friend and I am in the fortunate position of having two cats to cherish. They compliment each other very well. Bengal cats are called "Mini-leopards" while Bombays are known as "Mini-panthers." Little did I know how deeply these echoes of the wild would enrich my life as well as each other's.

I look back with amusement at my naivety choosing a Bombay in the hope finding that special "confident kitten." Those words just about sum up the Bombay breed. As he grows into adulthood, Pip's kittenish strut has become a triumphant tomcat swagger. His jet black coat glistens in the sunlight and his golden eyes shine with the ancient wisdom of a thousand mysteries. Using his considerable charm and charisma, he can purr his way out of anything. Pip may rule with a velvet paw, but he certainly rules all the same.

Photographing cats is difficult at the best of time due to their independent nature; however, with today's automatic cameras and some handy hints, even prize-winning pedigree cats can be professionally photographed at home by their owners. Here are ten handy hints for photographing cats