“Our cat is growing positively tyrannical. If she
finds herself alone anywhere she emits blood curdling yells until somebody
comes running. She sleeps on a table in the service porch and now demands to be
lifted up and down from it. She gets warm milk about eight o’clock at night and
starts yelling for it about 7.30. When she gets it she drinks a little, goes
off and sits under a chair, then comes and yells all over again for someone to
stand beside her while has another go at the milk. When we have company she
looks them over and decides almost instantly if she likes them. If she does she
strolls over and plops down on the floor far enough away to make it a chore to
pet her. If she doesn’t like them, she sits in the middle of the living room,
casts a contemptuous glance around, and proceeds to wash her backside.”—Mystery
novelist Raymond Chandler, letter to James Sandoe, September 23, 1948, in Selected Letters of Raymond Chandler, edited by Frank MacShane (1981)
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