I had to put away my toy so it didn’t get lost. After all, cats can’t read maps or ask for directions, and they don’t possess GPS.
I had to put away my toy so it didn’t get lost. After all, cats can’t read maps or ask for directions, and they don’t possess GPS.
I’m at a point in my life where I feel like I can’t go anywhere. Maybe I’ll try to coax my cat off my lap so I can get up and move.
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?
Well. I am not afraid. But to protect you, Katerina, I will be discreet." Plain Kate considered a cat's idea of discretion, and was frightened.
Ignorant people think it is the noise which fighting cats make that is so aggravating, but it ain't so; it is the sickening grammar that they use.
I have an abnormally shaped brain. According to neuroimaging, my brain looks like a curled up sleeping kitten. That’s how I make love like meow.
The Chairman likes you.”“Is that good?”“I never date anyone my cat doesn’t like,” Magnus said easily, and stood up.
Desire, problem solving, and communication are all signs of intelligence and awareness. My cat has these, so it's quite possible he has a soul too.
Sometimes I wish I had been born with cat fur, whiskers, and a tail, though I guess I am grateful that at least I was born with my very own litter box.
Their [cats] effortless passing between the wild and domestic worlds suggests the kind of grace we need as a species to move between nature and culture.
Dogs will give you unconditional love until the day they die. Cats will make you pay for every mistake you've ever made since the day you were born.
Cat rescue is like a virus," says Des placidely about the cat obsession that has taken over his life. "And once you're infected, it's incurable.
Le ChatJe souhaite dans ma maison:Une femme ayant sa raison.Un chat passant parmi les livres.Des amis en toute saisonSans lesquels je ne peux pas vivre.
For, though the room was silent, the silence of half a hundred cats is a peculiar thing, like fifty individual silences all piled one on top of another.
As my grandpa probably said, “The man who has pajamas knitted to match those of his cat, must be a superior lover.” My grandpa died a virgin.