My Cat Talks to Me

My relationship with my cat is less that of pet and owner than it is hostage-taker and hostage. Four-year-old Vlada spends every night sleeping peacefully in my arms like a teddy bear. Then, too soon after dawn, her demeanor abruptly changes: She bites my hands, legs, and neck, and meows in my face with a force that can only be described as belligerent. "Stop shouting at me," I tell her. After I have dutifully dispensed her morning tin of Applaws, Vlada is appeased.