“I grew up with dogs. I get dogs. I know what it means when a dog wags his tail or when the ridge of fur at the top of his spine lifts like a line of porcupine quills. Dogs are simple and direct. Dogs don’t mess with your head. Cats are a mystery to me. Cat signals are like animal cave drawings better left to a student of the species. You would think the fact that the woman I loved was a sorceress-in-training would be enough to deal with, but fate wasn’t through with me yet. She had cats. Lots o...f cats. And one of them talked. Yeah, it freaked me out, too. There really was no way to adjust to a cat that could explain quantum physics to you or turn you into a catnip mouse if the spirit moved her. The truth is, except for the talking and the magick and the litter box thing, I liked Penelope. She was a mellow cat. No diva hissing or scratching. No pouncing or swinging from the curtains. She slept, she ate, she slept some more. She was a house cat who’d been a house cat since before we were a loose collection of colonies with an English accent.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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