"In 1830 it was a snug collection of modest one- and two- story frame dwellings, whose whitewashed exteriors were almost concealed from sight by climbing tangles of rose vines, honeysuckles, and morning glories....When there was room on the ledge outside of the pots and boxes for a cat, the cat was there--in sunny weather-- stretched at full length, asleep and blissful, with her furry belly to the sun and a paw curved over her nose. Then that house was complete, and its contentment and peace made manifest to the world by this symbol, whose testimony is infallible. A home without a cat-- and a well fed, well-petted, and properly revered cat-- may be a perfect home, perhaps, but how can it prove title?"
Mark Twain The Tragedy of Puddin'head Wilson
For Squeaky and Bester and Wheezer and Weebles and Tiger and Stymie. And all the other well- revered felines I have known.
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