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Back Cover Copy
Dear Richard:
It was one of those perfect mornings. There I was, lying in bed with my cuddly Maine Coon, Shakespeare, snuggled up against me, his eyes half-closed, purring and exuding warmth like a giant, smelly heating pad. Suddenly he meowed and in a matter of seconds was off the bed and in the next room. Did I do someting wrong? Should I have let him get under the quilt? I really thought Shakespeare and I were having a "moment."
Allie
Dear Allie,
Are you (still) lying down? Good, then I can tell you that with cats, that's all there is—a moment, which pretty much sums up their attention span. Shakespeare wasn't with you one moment and gone the next; he was gone even while he was there, much like some men who, during a night of bliss, seem to have already put on their clothes and left. The difference, of course, is that cats don't have clothes to put on.
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