The kitten was six weeks old. It was enchanting, a delicate fairy-tale cat, whose Siamese genes showed in the shape of the face, ears, tail, and the subtle lines of its body. … She sat, a tiny thing, in the middle of a yellow carpet, surrounded by five worshipppers, not at all afraid of us. Then she stalked around that floor of the house, inspecting every inch of it, climbed up on to my bed, crept under the fold of a sheet, and was at home.
Perhaps all early love affairs ought to be strangled or drowned, like so many blind kittens.
With your gossamer tail,
You are the loveliest creature
I have ever seen.”
Put your tongue back in where it belongs
And go away.
I know exactly what you are thinking.
I am so tired of this gothic crap,
Captain! You can’t hold them off! I tried! I swear! They’ve been artificially enhanced, sir! But all the humans died out – there’s bones out there by the millions! They were all suffocated by cuteness! The World is full of kiitens, oh the horror!
‘My God,’ Hadrian said. “They’ve finally did it! All those oh-so-cute-my-cuddy-kittens-here’s-a-pic bastards! They finally went and did it!