Since I have spoken of her so often, I thought you might like to see the crabby cat with whom I live. Here she is in her favourite positions – asleep with her claws out, or draped at various angles until it’s time to go to the litter box and make an incredible mess and smell, or else nibble a bit of delicious food and go back to sleep. She never sits on a lap, will slash you if you pet her, does not know how to purr.
I have never met a car who cannot purr. My daughter adopted her in Harlem, when she was living in New York, because the shelter cages were full of cute kittens but only one who was hissing and fierce.
“Oh dear,” thought Anna, “no one will adopt that one. I guess I should.” And now she’s mine.
