The Old Purr-tender

Clearly I am not speaking of James Francis Edwards, Prince of Wales, nicknamed the Old Pretender. I am speaking of my very own Prince of Cats, Kitty O, who pretends not to hear me when I call him home from the neighbor's garden, where he likes to stretch out on the hot cement a la Brigitte Bardot on the Riviera. And it's Bardot because wasn't she the original sex kitten?
Well, Kitty O has been 'fixed,' so there goes the sex allure, but he sure pretends to be the cat about town. He goes thither and yon, and only returns when he feels like it. I imagine him with some other creature, hearing my voice, and pretending that it's just some noise carried by the wind.
But as much as it annoys me, I have to confess that his pretending makes me realize we are very alike, for after all, I pretend like crazy when I write. I pretend I am this character, in that situation, I am sad, I am happy, all the time trying to give it a feeling of authenticity, just like Kitty O, who is in his moment at every moment, purring, purr-tending, or, very seldom actually listening, though he might very well be pretending to do that!
These days I am pretending that I am in a forest, living in a hut, looking up at a tree laden with mangoes. The make believe forest is where one of my characters lives, in this pretend world I am creating that I hope, very much, will feel real.
Here's to all pretenders, purr-tenders, old and young!