Rose is Rose (11/15/09)

I grew up with a volatile calico named Tiger, who behaved much like the skittish cat in this strip. The convulsive snarling and scratching in the second-to-last panel? That was par for the course in my boyhood home. As much as I loved Tiger, she could be maddeningly unpredictable. She might spend a half-hour sitting on my lap before scratching and biting me at the unexpected turn of a page. She never did serious damage, though, and I contend that it was her ornery nature that helped her live 19 long years.

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