Kittens can happen to anyone.

If you like cats and have some, you get kittens; and if you like kittens and enjoy having them about, they grow up and you get more cats.

You learn eventually that, while there are no villains, there are no heroes either. And until you make the final discovery that there are only human beings, who are therefore all the more fascinating, you are liable to miss something.

Everything a cat is and does physically is to me beautiful, lovely, stimulating, soothing, attractive and an enchantment.

It is the custom to sneer at the modern apartment-house, television, big-city Christmas, with its commercial taint . . . office parties, artificial . . . Christmas trees . . . but future generations in search of their lost Christmases may well remember its innocence; yes, and its beauty, too.

Kittens can happen to anyone.

There is the little matter of disposal of droppings in which the cat is far ahead of its rivals. The dog is somehow thrilled by what he or any of his friends have produced, hates to leave it, adores smelling it, and sometimes eats it.