“Yearning for love made her feel like a cat that was always twining around ankles, meowing Pet me, pet me, look at me, love me.”

“It was hard to imagine feeling that magical tingling sensation in the pit of her belly anytime soon. Best not to worry about it, she thought. She didn't need it. Well. She didn't want to need it. Yearning for love made her feel like a cat that was always twining around ankles, meowing Pet me, pet me, look at me, love me. Better to be the cat gazing coolly down from a high wall, its expression inscrutable. The cat that shunned petting, that needed no one. Why couldn't she be that cat? Be that cat!!! she wrote, drawing it into the corner of her page, cool and aloof.”

“Love reminds me of when I was six and had a pet goldfish named “Silverbird” that I carried around the house, petting it like a cat. Needless to say it died. So I ate it.”

“You left me. You made a pet out of me, and then you left me. If love were food, I would have starved on the bones you gave me.”

“Somebody needs to pet me, and I guess that somebody is me. My cat is busy sleeping.”

“They treat me like some sort of pet cat but claws I have, and claws I will use”