A cat—best described as a cross between a crumpled tuxedo and a well-used toilet wand—sits vigilant. Seven unplanned litters of kittens have tested her patience and her personality, so that she has matured into the kind of cat that will take a crap on the carpet before she takes crap from anyone else. The kind of cat who knows where the sensitive skin of an ankle is and how it can fell a full-grown man. The kind of cat who instills bewilderment into the heart of a mastiff. The kind of cat who is sitting next to a wine barrel holding a WELCOME! sign outside the last bar of a doomed medieval
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