Flat cat in a sack: Cautionary tale about felines

I've always believed that cats are an acquired taste. No, no, PETA people, don't get me wrong, when I say "taste" I am not talking about eating the poor things, as they do in some protein-deficient places. I am only saying that some people grow to love felines, while other people put them in the same category as the vermin they chase. Mark Twain and my Grandmother, two of my idols, grew to love cats, while Julius Caesar, Napolean Bonaparte and Benito Mussolini are said to have hated the furry creatures. Which I think speaks well of them. The cats I mean, not the dictators. In Tudor times cats were burned as symbols of heresy, they are said to bring bad luck, and those who've read the entire book say that cats are not mentioned once in the Bible. As for me, I can take or leave them, but I get really irritated at cat lovers who insist that cats are smarter than dogs. When was the last time you saw a Siamese herd a flock of sheep or sniff out a victim trapped underneath rubble? The cats of Mrs. Flickenfloss were composed of two regiments, the inside and the outside cats. Loafer was an outside cat. Don't let his lack of access mislead you, Loafer was loved as much as any inside cat by Cat Woman, he just refused to go indoors. Loafer was what some people call a "feral" cat, although Mister Flickenfloss had other, less complimentary, names for the cat who was always underfoot. On a monthly trip to the Flickenfloss ranch the liquid supplement salesman had just finished filling up the tubs for the cattle and was on his way out the gate when he saw a cat zip across the road...more