Cats are kind of a design miracle, you know? poetry in motion, as it were! They start out in a pile..squeaking blobs of wet fur, squirming inside a cardboard box lined with towels (or blankets), –eyes taped shut, fighting over a teat; and next playing army all over the house, springing an ambush from around the corner of a chair..with conspicuous scratches to the upholstery; or taking out a machine-gun nest at the top of the curtains, clawing his way to the top, carrying a hand grenade..in the skin of his baby teeth! then, a little dry food with a milk chaser. Eventually Mom cuts them off, they’re on their own, now..in front of the supermarket, confined, once again, to a cardboard box; and a sign hung on their stiff little necks: FREE KITTENS “Mom! Mom!! can we keep this one? Ohh, pleeze, he’s so cute!” A horrible fate; but then it sure beats a free one-way ticket to the research-lab’s. And there’s always the not unlikely chance that that kitty-cat will be the next king, sweet-smelling in his fur..sweet as his own spit! and an early retirement. New ruler of the old neighborhood: