Taylor Swift acquired another luxurious cat following the loss of her previous one, expressing, “I’m a huge cat enthusiast; I adore having them around me. I couldn’t care less about the criticism from haters. Cats bring me joy, and that’s what matters.”.

Other partners have come and gone but I’ve been at the singer’s side for a decade, as her favourite furry friend – and this is our story.

The truth is I’ve never been able to stand her. That faux-sweetness. The permanent victim status. The confected gratitude as she tours the world and goes to bed in a pit of money. People think she’s humble, but she’s never met a mirror she didn’t like.

A renowned monogamist? Yeah, and I’m a Bichon Frisé… She has men come and go all through the day, satisfying her every craven desire. She is a monster, a hack, a trashy little fame whore. And it’s about time we all woke up to it.

Who is ‘she’, you ask, the cat’s grandmother? No, my grandmother was a saint. I refer, of course, to Choupette, Karl Lagerfeld’s blue-eyed Birman, often touted as one of the ‘richest cats in the world’. (The most well-PR’d cat in the world, more to the point.)

rankings of famous cats, I’m forever number two, despite my fortune being a reported $97 million (eclipsing her estimated $13 million). But at least my conscience is clear. Tell me, who was the last person to see Lagerfeld alive? And who ended up left with a meaty portion of his fortune in the will? I’m not accusing anyone of anything. I’m just asking questions, that’s all.

For those unaware, I have been the primary cat companion of the global superstar Taylor Alison Swift for 10 years this summer.

In June 2014, when I was just a kitten, Lady Swift posted a photograph on Instagram of me, gazing back at her from her lap. ‘Meet Olivia Benson,’ she wrote, and, not for the first time, I broke the internet.