I was abandoned when I was young; I have no memory of my biological parents. I was taken in and raised by a kind human family who, despite an inexplicable attachment to several small canine units, has given me a good life. They don’t overpet me or allow their diminutive doggage to actually interact with me, which is better for all concerned.
My passion? Drifting like soft smoke through the field, blending so perfectly with the woods and grasses that I might as well be invisible.
My philosophy? The only good mole is a dead mole. The best mole is half-eaten on the door step.
You may call ‘kitty, kitty’ all you want, but I don’t choose to answer…unless it’s raining, or I’m in a mood to manipulate certain little dogs into a frothing frenzy with a few well-timed mews and some practiced flicks of my completely luxurious tail.
You can call me Cat-Sister, if you like; some do. Be warned, though: my name is Trouble, and I’ve earned every syllable of it.
My hero? A heroine, actually: Nagaina–the cobra from Kipling’s classic tale Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. Like me, she was misunderstood. And framed.