“So, you ask, how is my little basket of furry sunshine? Well, as I told you she would, for three days she spat and hissed each time I had the temerity to try to pick her up or if I patted my lap in invitation. Worse was if my finger hovered within a short mile of her feet. I did that once and was summarily bitten. No sir, she does not forgive lightly being prodded and pulled. After four days she now will reluctantly admit, though in very round-about terms, that she feels more comfortable. I know this by the renewed agility and suppleness demonstrated when chasing my other cats; she can handle the bend between sofa and table deftly now, much to the others’ surprise. In short, instead of lumbering around the house, she is now a svelte, streamlined athlete after being separated from a half ton of loose hair, grass, dead mice and that earring I mislaid. I know that, were she not a drama queen, she would thank you for your patience and kindness, and for tolerating her bad temper. But as she most definitely is, I hope you’ll accept my gratitude instead.”
