I need to read this book. As a teenager we had a mean cat named Charley. He was an orange tabby cat and he only liked my dad. If any of the rest of us acted like we were going to pet him he hissed at us but he would jump up on my dad's lap and go to sleep. I knew he was sick when he let me pick him up and drive him to the vet's office. It turned out his urinary tract was stopped up and he had to be rotorooted. After we changed his cat food he was back to his old mean self. He moved with us here to Arkansas and he ended up living to the ripe old age of 15 and ended up having to be put down. Even though he didn't like me I cried and cried when we had to put him down.

I now have my own orange tabby and am glad that he is nothing like Charley.

Jbug