Who reads cat books? Me, apparently.
Kitty Cornered was a gift from a lovely friend who must be extremely sensitive, because she gathered from the occasional faint protest that Beloved Husband and I were sometimes puzzled by our cat’s behavior. Really, we never complain about him. Not about the scars on our hands, or the electronic food box set to pop open at 2 a.m. Certainly we never moan about his elaborate slimming diet or his equally elaborate beauty rituals (two brushes; bribery-fueled manicures).
And now that I’ve met the creatures in Kitty Cornered, I would never dare criticize an 18-pound long-hair who sleeps 16 hours a day. You want cat trouble? Bob Tarte has cat trouble times six. He also has trouble with ducks, parakeets, and rabbits, but I could only concentrate on the felines. Some of this is laugh-out-loud funny, especially since Tarte is ready to throw his sense of dignity under the bus. Guess that’s crucial with six cats. He’s also clear about his emotional bonds with the animals, especially with the skittish, damaged Frannie whose integration into the household is the somewhat attenuated narrative arc of the book.
Does it get dull sometimes? Yes.
Did I read the whole thing? Yes. Willingly.
Will you like it? I think you can tell by now.