One day, without your permission, he gets his ears pierced.
Your credit card is overcharged, mainly for "9-Lives."
You find attached to the refrigerator a note that reads:
"Leave a steak on the front porch at midnight, or you'll never see Spot again."
Too many times a week your cat comes home after one in the morning, totally plastered and with a strong odour of catnip about him.
You come home to catch him in the act of raiding your liquor cabinet.
Several hundred dollars' worth of phone calls appear on your phone bill to "1-900-PUSSYCAT-MEOW."
You find out that the lifetime's supply of cat food wasn't a prize from "Kitten's Life" magazine, but that your cat has been selling drugs in the neighbourhood.
After failing to get your attention with constant meows and by rubbing up against your leg, your cat pulls out his Magnum-44 and aims it at you, demanding "Friskies" and catnip.
A Morning Kiss
A morning kiss, a discreet touch of his nose landing somewhere on the middle of my face.
Because his long white whiskers tickled, I began every day laughing.
Janet F Faure
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