Cat-thought of the day, discovered as I idled through Shakespeare's The Rape of Lucrece when I was supposed to be working:

Yet, foul night-waking cat, he doth but dally,

While in his hold-fast foot the weak mouse panteth.

I was oppressed, for a number of years, by that identical "foul night-waking cat." He belonged to a roommate, who moved out and subsequently "forgot" to come back for him. He was malice incarnate--extremely large and wild-eyed, and vindictively clever. I was sure he would live forever. After he died, I missed him, which shows how stupid people can be, because he really was an awful cat. He used to push heavy things onto my head in the night, like War and Peace and glasses of water. He bit the landlord. He methodically ate every wicker laundry basket in the house. The vet's office labeled his file with a red sticker that said, "Dangerous." Once my in-laws baby-sat him for a summer. They were living in Emily Dickinson's house at the time. I don't think he did any permanent damage to the collection. But they might have been too nice to mention it.