Bøker av Michael F Gorman

Here's my recipe for the perfect cat: sweet nature, beautiful, brimming with endearing behaviors, purrs at the mention of her name or merely looking at her, wants to be near the man or woman who loves her, is happiest when held or touched, has a sweet speaking voice, fur so soft that "softness" takes on a new meaning, magnificent green eyes, and the cutest face and pinkest nose to ever walk the earth on four legs. I have the cat described. Her name is Squeaky, and this is her story.

Summer 2013. One morning a tiger appears on my deck. Her origin and story are unknown. This tabby has dark, exotic markings. Her hunger and curiosity overcome her fear as I watch her throw the screen door. Keeping my distance, I watch this beautiful cat inhale the food and lap the water I put out for her. In fact, I had never seen a cat consume food so quickly, like a vacuum cleaner attacking a shag carpet. Her name was instantly obvious: Hoover. And, instead of normal cat talk, Hoover's "Meow" comes out as "Quack." This is her story.