It's not like a dog that comes when its called. It's a cat. It comes when it wants to. I have to feed it and care for it and, still, it will sometimes shy away or even run away when I try to summon it.
It may plop itself down, six feet away from me, just to sun itself.
If I try to get hold of it when it's not in the mood, it may even scratch me.
I didn't ask to be the kind of writer whose muse is a cat. But then again, the cat is my favorite animal. What did I expect?
