I collect records. And cats. I don't have any cats right now. But if I'm taking a walk and I see a cat, I'm happy.
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?
I'm not sure why I like cats so much. I mean, they're really cute obviously. They are both wild and domestic at the same time.
I've always been mad about cats.
It is impossible for a lover of cats to banish these alert, gentle, and discriminating friends, who give us just enough of their regard and complaisance to make us hunger for more.
Oh cat, I'd say, or pray: be-ootiful cat! Delicious cat! Exquisite cat! Satiny cat! Cat like a soft owl, cat with paws like moths, jewelled cat, miraculous cat! Cat, cat, cat, cat.
Five cats and a woman. That is all I need in life.
In ancient times cats were worshipped as gods; they have not forgotten this.
I like cats a lot. I've always liked cats. They're great company. When they eat, they always leave a little bit at the bottom of the bowl. A dog will polish the bowl, but a cat always leaves a little bit. It's like an offering.
