I find that is when they have the most to say; all one has to do is listen.

Listening isn't just an aural thing. The choices about where they let their guard down to rest, how they might let it down by being comfortable in the open or curled in a box, sleeping with belly exposed, expressions, the twitching when they dream means they are in REM sleep.

Grrr stretches in her sleep when she's relaxed, coupled with a big single purr. Hobbes will sigh in his sleep. The Swede returns to kittenhood; my shoulder has little prick-marks because she sleeps across my chest and kneads and nuzzles in her sleep.

Cal'y is a different sort, always on her guard. There is a particular way she needs approached before she lets it down enough to let me in, but once it comes down she's enthusiastic. The guard doesn't come down for anyone outside the three of us in this house.

Lucy the Micro-panther is lively, and her volume is turned up to eleven even in her sleep. Her purr is almost silent; you can feel it with a hand on her chest but I can't hear it. Still, she piles in with us each night and starts bedtime with a good play. Wake up a bit later and she'll be stretched out full-length and belly up between us in the bed yet she won't sit or sleep in a lap during the day. She does the same if I take an afternoon nap.

They read us in the same way. I'm ill or down, they all check on me, and you know they know and are a bit worried. It amazes me.

When they are up, they are in control of their spaces and all the systems are in train, those spaces their own. Only when they relax and rest do those defences come down and, if you are one of them and trusted, they stay down for you. Then I can really interact, determine their health, how they are feeling, unlimber the emotional bonds and indulge a kitten-pile or a good tickly-fuss.

All I have to do is "listen".