Marmalade, my erudite, pure bred, Norwegian Forest cat

When I put down my book The Meaning of Zen, I saw my cat Marmalade smiling into his fur. He was dexterously combing it with his pink tongue.

“Cat,” I said, “I would lend you this book to study but, from the paw marks on the cover it appears that you have already read it.”

He looked up and gave me his full gaze.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he purred. “I wrote it.”

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