I’m writing this at 6.30 in the morning — I didn’t wake up on my own accord, but was woken by my cat’s quack (if you know my cat, you’ll know that he’s like a feline Tom Waits, and always sounds like he has had a little too much to drink).
My cat is a cat of few words. He hardly meows (I suspect he’s a little embarrassed by his voice), and when he does you tend to sit up and listen, which was exactly what I had (reluctantly) done today. I looked into his eyes, and was bowled over by how much he reminded me of Puss in Boots of Shrek.
I had no choice but to go feed him. Stupid cat.
Donn, fragments 
I love the Tom Waits analogy!
I had an orange quacking cat, too. I miss him terribly. Friends said he sounded like a grumpy old man, but it was just how he meowed. He was quite a character.
Does your feline ever visit you when you’re writing? Come post a picture of him at your desk.
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