It's an interesting fact that fewer than 17 % of Real cats end their lives with the same name they started with. Much family effort goes into selecting one at the start ("She looks like a Winnifred to me"), and the as the years roll by it suddenly finds itself being called Meepo or Ratbag.

We live and learn, or, perhaps more importantly we learn and live.

This book had two authors, and they were both the same person.

If you have enough book space, I don't want to talk to you.

Next comes the realist phase ("After all, from a purely geometrical point of view a cat is only a tube with a door at the top.")

Anyway, it's like with bikes,' said the first speaker authoritatively. 'I thought I was going to get this bike with seven gears and one of them razorblade saddles and purple paint and everything, and they gave me this light blue one. With a basket. A girl's bike.' 'Well. You're a girl,' said one of the others. 'That's sexism, that is. Going around giving people girly presents just because they're a girl.

It was like being in a Jane Austen novel, but one with far less clothing.