Friday, March 17

My cat, Daisy, is unusually intelligent for an animal with a brainbox the size of a teacup. We got her from a shelter, where she fixed her eyes on me from behind the bars in a way that spoke loud and clear: "Here I am. Let's go now." But the sign on her cage said she was a male, and I wasn't looking for a tomcat (my boss Ray had a tom at his house and boy did he reek up the place!) So, I looked around. Then somebody else took her out to look at her, and I saw Daisy's expression: panic. When that woman put her back and moved on I went back and had them take Daisy (then unnamed) out. Her big eyes bored trustingly into mine. Without doing any physical interrogation, I got a very strong female sense from her. "Are you SURE this cat is a male?" I asked the Shelter worker. A short comedy ensued, with affronted professional dignity crumbling into frantic abasement: "Omigod, I don't know how we made this mistake!"

That was many, many years ago. Here she is at her last Vet visit. Although it looks like she is stalking the mouse, she is really just hiding in the only hiding place available. Intelligent, and resourceful too!

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