I had an outside Tom, Clyde Bailey, I adopted from an ex-cheerleader friend who I was convinced was gay.

He was 20 something pounds, skin and bones, with claws like sabres. Like one of those bodybuilders or pre-night-of-the-long-knives Nazis.

My sister had a runt of a cat. An abused rescue. He was afraid of everything. I had her look after Clyde Bailey once. She was terrified that Clyde would kill her poor cat. I was sure that her cat was his "type".

Her cat took one look at Clyde and collapsed in surrender. Clyde sniffed him. Two minutes later her cat was dancing around showing Clyde his hiding spots. An hour later it was mutual cat bath.

My sister was somewhere between offended and unending laughter. She made me promise not to tell Anyone.

When I meet this Anyone, I'll be sure not to tell him.