My old black cat, he passed away this morning. He never knew what a heartache was. Woke up late and he danced till noon. If questioned why, answered just because. He never spoke much, preferring silence. Eight lost lives was all he had.

In raising the consciousness of the public to the plight of many small, wild cats, the Bengal and some other hybrids can be like a signpost pointing the way to a broad and unselfish commitment to save not only endangered species but those whose fate may also one day become inevitable.

I wouldn’t just kiss you. I would hold your cheeks and worship your mouth. I would devour your lips and make drunken love to your tongue. I would fucking inhale you, so you would live forever in my lungs...

The only other time I've seen Paul cry was when he got hit in the teeth with a cricket bat when he was fourteen. And that time Diana made us watch 'Bambi'.

We will soon have some cats housed at the shelter, though.

She's a nice girl, but her bad girl's better.