The cat campaign had been going on for years. My sisters and I didn’t believe we had a hope of winning. Our parents weren’t keen on cats, or dogs, or Scallywag, the sharp-toothed hamster who lived in a cage in the dining room, making occasional bids for freedom and keeping us all in a state of high anxiety.
But things would be different with a cat. We would shower it with love, and wrap a giant pink satin bow around its neck. We’d call it Duchess or Splendour or Fluffy, and treat it like a Girl’s World doll, albeit one made entirely out of hair. We talked about our imaginary cat all the time. This is probably why our parents relented.
