Well, I didn't make much of a hit with my new sister, Tremor, a neighborhood stray cat who my humans adopted a few months before. She greeted me with a hiss and ruffled fur. But now we are sort of friends but Tremor still keeps her distance. I can't understand why she doesn't want to play with me. Everybody else does.

One of my duties is being an alarm clock set for 6 A.M. to get my humans up whether they want to get up then or not. I jump on the bed and start licking them till they get up. My other duty is watch dog. I sit on the front patio and watch everybody going by with a special greeting for the dogs taking their humans for walks.

The one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous . . . . . is his dog. A man's dog stands by him in prosperity and poverty, in health and sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near his master's side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer; he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounter with the roughness of the world. He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other friends desert he remains. When riches take wings and reputation falls to pieces he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journey through the heavens.