My bloody book isn’t even available yet and already I’m being accused of being a psycho catman more concerned with feline welfare than that of my fellow humans.
Let’s get this straight: I do not have a cat thing going on. Yes, there’s a cat on the cover of my book—and an intrepid fellow he appears to be. Yes, a cat appears in my website homepage photo (my adoring fan). Yes, a cat is mentioned in my book; okay, twice—but it’s the same cat. Yes, my wife and I co-exist with two cats. Yes, I emailed my wife a picture of one of them this morning. But that’s as far as it goes. I do not Google cat videos. I have never owned a kitten poster. I do not believe cats are smarter than dogs.
My sister is the one with cat-food and electric water dispensers on every floor of her house—in every room, it seems. There are more litter boxes in that house than toilets. I haven’t considered this before, but maybe she sees this as a good sales feature: “Handsome two-storey single family home with 3.5 baths and 6 litter boxes.”
Okay, this isn’t getting any funnier. I just had to put the kibosh on this cat grumbling. If I ever get an interview with Eleanor Wachtel, I do not want her going on about how cats figure prominently in my work. Unless…Eleanor…happens…to…like…cats…
Gotta run. The cats are hungry.