Meet the telepathic moggy that claims to be a ruthless killer . . .

The Pet Psychic: What’s Your Dog Thinking? ★★★★☆

Perfect Pub Walks With Bill Bailey ★★★☆☆

AREADER contacted me, a while back, to say that he was a lifelong psychic who wanted to help the Mail with a missing person investigation. He lived 20 minutes away, and I was intrigued so I paid a visit.

Within minutes, he announced that he sensed a presence at my shoulder: ‘Your dad wants to make contact, he’s got a message for you.’

Not to worry, I said — we’d already spoken on the phone that morning. My psychic looked peeved and said there was a strong family resemblance, and it must be my grandfather: ‘Harry? Jack? No, he’s saying his name is . . . Tom?’

Shortly after that, the misty spectre of my Grandad (whose name was James) got fed up and left. And so did I.

No dear departed relatives accompanied Beth Lee-Crowther as she made her rounds on The Pet Psychic: What’s Your Dog Thinking? (Ch5). But a recently deceased mouse did haunt one reading.

Beth, who believes she has the ability to communicate by telepathy with animals, was deep in psychic conversation with an 11-year-old white-and-tortoiseshell cat called Arya, a ragdoll/snowshoe cross.

Arya’s owners, Elizabeth and David, were thinking of getting her cloned — creating a genetically identical kitten at a cost of £10,000. They wanted to know if Arya consented.

Beth revealed Arya was more bothered by her itchy nose and ears. This might have been a paranormal diagnosis, or there might have been a clue in the angry red inflammation around the cat’s eyes.

Then Arya sent a telepathic telegram about mice under the floorboards. Her owners looked aghast, then indignant — and then embarrassed when the film crew pointed out a dead mouse by a hole in the skirting board.

A camera trap later revealed it was the couple’s other moggy, a two-year-old ginger rascal called Lula, who was the mouser. Arya didn’t mention that, but you can’t blame an animal for taking credit where none is due.

What the cat did say, quite clearly, was that cloning didn’t appeal. ‘She is very much of the opinion,’ Beth explained, ‘that you can’t duplicate her because, although the looks would be the same, the actual soul would be different. She’s like, “I’m all you need.”’

David was relieved: ‘The thought of being able to save £10,000 is a really positive thing for me.’ If he were a little more psychic, he might realise that’s the sort of thought a chap is better off keeping to himself.

An arch voiceover by narrator Clive Mantle was the closest this show came to scepticism. No alternative explanations were explored. This real-life Dr Dolittle says she can talk to the animals and her claim is not questioned. But there’s an endless charm in seeing people with beloved pets, whether they’re chickens, camels or ferrets. And any animallover knows that rapport is magical . . . perhaps even telepathic. It’s one of life’s joys, and this series reflects that.

Bill Bailey experienced a magical rapport, on the first of his Perfect Pub Walks (More4), with a barnful of dairy cows. They reminded him of an Edinburgh Fringe audience, he said.

He and old pal Alan Davies were taking a gentle hike between watering holes in the Peak District. The premise is that middleaged blokes don’t talk enough, and beauty spots are the place to do this — providing there’s the prospect of a pint later.

Bill, a birdwatcher in robust health, was loving it. Alan, an inveterate moaner whose body is a sack of aches and pains, was less enthusiastic.

‘I enjoyed it a small amount, not a great amount,’ he said, which summed up the show.