She started to say something, didn’t say it, and then laughed. “I own up. I’d like to, all right. And if it’s something I’m supposed not to do, why that don’t mean a thing to me. But I can’t. It’s on account of the cats.”
“Cats?”
“We’ve got a lot of cats. And I’m the one that takes care of them. That’s why I had to get home.”
“Well, they got pet farms, haven’t they? We’ll call one up, and tell them to come over and get them.”
That struck her funny. “I’d like to see a pet farm’s face when it saw them. They’re not that kind.”
“Cats are cats, ain’t they?”
“Not exactly. Some are big and some are little. Mine are big. I don’t think a pet farm would do very well with that lion we’ve got. Or the tigers. Or the puma. Or the three jaguars. They’re the worst. A jaguar is an awful cat.”
“Holy smoke. What do you do with those things?”
“Oh, work them in movies. Sell the cubs. People have private zoos. Keep them around. They draw trade.”
“They wouldn’t draw my trade.”