Right now, I am sitting right in front of him, slowly licking various body parts (my own; he’s nasty) between paragraphs.

In recent days, I have caught a little grief for the style and color of my sleeping quarters. First of all, don’t worry about it. Second, only a cat who is confident in his masculinity could make such a bold statement. Sissies and little girls may be troubled by my colorful digs, but not I. I sleep well, my friend.

No, I am not sensitive about it. The place is roomy and quiet. But I am perplexed by pampered pusses who pontificate profusely from their padded, store-bought “Walmart Special” about my perfectly fine, pink home.