“Do you and the cats get along?” I ask. The gray one gives me death eyes. Then she bares her needle teeth. I shudder. “We do,” Jamie says, calling me back from his cat’s telepathic death threats. “They don’t seem to mind that I have long hours periodically. I keep the heat on the high side and they have cat beds set in the south-facing windows, so they get as much sun to nap in as possible. They seem happy enough when I’m home.”
