Midnight is Charlotte's cat, a handsome black gentleman with an extraordinary appetite, questionable coordination and a rather complicated approach to affection.
But his story began very differently.
Growing up, Charlotte had always wanted a cat of her own. She'd heard so many stories about the wonderful relationship I'd shared with my beloved Podge, who had been my companion for 23 years, and she longed to experience that same special bond.
Eventually, she found Midnight, chose him herself and brought him home.
Unfortunately, his first few weeks with us were terribly worrying.
He was a tiny, poorly kitten, struggling with sickness and diarrhoea, and there were moments when we genuinely feared we might lose him.
Charlotte devoted herself to caring for him, patiently feeding him tiny amounts by hand and making sure he received all the attention he needed.
Thankfully, with veterinary treatment and plenty of care, Midnight recovered.
And once he discovered the joys of eating, there was apparently no turning back.
The tiny, fragile kitten gradually transformed into a rather generously proportioned gentleman with an enthusiasm for food that borders on professional dedication.
These days, Midnight's greatest ambition appears to be ensuring that no biscuit is ever left unattended.
We've spent considerable time trying to help him maintain a healthier weight, which has proved challenging because Midnight is not merely enthusiastic about food.
He's exceptionally cunning.
For a while, we had automatic feeders positioned in different bedrooms for the cats.
Midnight soon discovered that Charlotte's feeder operated slightly earlier than the others.
So he'd collect his first meal, then wander into my bedroom and behave as though he'd simply come to enjoy my company.
How lovely, I thought.
Until the second feeder activated.
At which point, all pretence of affection vanished as he launched himself towards the next available meal.
It was an impressively calculated operation.
Eventually, I realised that the only way to manage his elaborate dining arrangements was to supervise his meals myself.
He even has his own weighing scales.
Between Midnight's weight-management programme and my own efforts to eat more healthily, I sometimes feel we're attending the same support group.
Although I suspect Midnight has rather different ideas about portion control.
His appetite isn't his only unusual characteristic.
Midnight is, without question, one of the strangest cats I've ever known.
And I've known quite a few.
For a start, his coordination is extraordinary, and not necessarily in a good way.
He can attempt a perfectly ordinary jump and somehow turn it into an unexpected acrobatic disaster.
Sometimes he reminds me of a Slinky dog, with the front half of his body apparently operating independently of the back.
Fortunately, Midnight is an indoor cat, because I suspect outdoor survival would present him with some considerable logistical difficulties.
When he's particularly happy, however, he has a wonderful habit of stretching himself out into what we call his Superman pose.
He's also remarkably photogenic, which is quite an achievement for somebody whose limbs don't always appear to be working together.
But perhaps Midnight's most unusual characteristic is his approach to affection.
For years, he and I had a rather difficult relationship.
I've always had a natural affection for cats, and they've generally returned the feeling.
Midnight was the exception.
He didn't particularly like me, and I couldn't understand why.
Any attempt to cuddle him was usually met with a swift departure, as though I'd committed some dreadful breach of feline etiquette.
But since Charlotte went away to university, something rather lovely has happened.
Midnight and I have gradually become friends.
He now comes looking for me, purrs in my company and occasionally decides that I require a thorough wash. He'll lick my arm or leg, and if I attempt to move away before he's finished, he'll grab my arm and pull it back towards him.
Apparently, I'm a rather uncooperative kitten in need of grooming.
Of course, if I attempt to return the affection without his permission, he may still retreat in horror.
Midnight believes very firmly that affection should be offered entirely on his own terms.
Recently, however, he surprised me by voluntarily climbing onto my lap.
As luck would have it, I was recording a little video for Charlotte, something I do regularly so she can keep up with Midnight's adventures while she's away at university.
Naturally, I captured the historic occasion on camera.
Midnight promptly jumped off again, and when Charlotte saw the evidence, she announced that he'd obviously realised she was watching.
"He's a two-timer!" she declared.
Apparently, Midnight's newly acquired affection for me is now the subject of a minor family scandal.
Midnight's relationship with the other animals is equally entertaining.
He and Tabitha occasionally join forces for sudden bursts of energetic racing around the house, while his relationship with Freddie has required a little more diplomacy.
Freddie has never been Midnight's greatest admirer.
But as Midnight has grown more confident, he's become less inclined to surrender his chosen route simply because Freddie happens to be standing in the way.
On one memorable occasion, he marched straight past him to reach my side.
Freddie looked rather surprised by this unexpected display of feline authority.
Midnight also has a remarkable ability to detect food being served elsewhere in the house.
Even the quietest attempt to give Morse a few extra biscuits can summon him from another room at astonishing speed.
No announcement is necessary.
No invitation is required.
Midnight simply knows.
Despite all his peculiar habits, his enormous appetite and his sometimes baffling behaviour, he's become an incredibly endearing member of our family.
That tiny kitten Charlotte once nursed so carefully has grown into a confident, affectionate and wonderfully eccentric character.
And although he'll always be Charlotte's special boy, I'm rather pleased that he's finally decided there's room in his life for me too.
As Head of Food Intelligence & Strategic Biscuit Acquisitions, Midnight remains permanently on duty.
Because somewhere in this house, at this very moment, somebody might be opening a packet of biscuits.
And Midnight intends to be there when it happens.