asked Town & Country, the magazine for rich people. And nobody did, at least among the presidents of two hundred top American corporations. Napoleon hated cats, too. So did Hitler. I recall no U.S. president who was partial to cats. Franklin Roosevelt’s Fala, Richard Nixon’s Checkers, Lyndon Johnson’s beagles—dogs every one. If there has ever been a cat in the White House, it seems to have escaped the notice of history and the media. Town & Country offers an explanation, of sorts. “Give the millionaire executive, banker, even lawyer, a dog to train, a horse to school and perhaps a parrot to teach. Fine. All are in the realm of a structured, orderly way of life.” Balderdash. I know of no more structured, orderly animal than the cat. A cat doesn’t like to get its feet wet. It keeps itself clean with a diligence that many humans would do well to copy. If it leaves the backyard, no posse is needed to find it, for it always comes back. All it requires of the coinhabitants of its household is food, water, and a clean litter box.
What do You think about The Time Of My Life (1984)?
