“I have a rating system I apply to all people. Mao Zedong might have a Meow Factor of four, but I like to keep my Meow Factor as close to zero as I can. This system is not to be confused with my HV methodology, where I assign myself a Hooray Value of five.”

“I have assigned myself a Hooray Factor of five. This is the top level, and is the only level that has a physical representation—that of a high five. But don’t try to give me a high five, because I’m the only person in the world with a Hooray Factor of five. So until my clones get here, I’ll just have to continue to high five my reflection in the mirror.”

“Chairs have legs. Four of them, like my father. Meow.”

“I collect hair. I keep most of it on my floor, but my most valuable patches I display on the bodies of a few cats I have roaming my house like walking art displays that meow.”

“Meow, meow, meow. Meow meow. Meoow,” Boo told me, obviously having a full day and feeling I needed to be kept apprised of every second of it.”

“I have a beard of grass. I grew it on my back, and sometimes my neighbor mows it for me. Meow!”