Iwanna, I can relate. I got my cat when he was 1 year old from my vet. I had a choice of two cats, one was big, white, and a drooler....but very, very loving.
And then there was the other, gray, frantic, scared-to-death....and that's the one I took.
That cat, has been nothing short of perfect. He never jumped on anything, never got into things, follows me everywhere, almost like he appreciatede that he was picked, and knew I was his last chance before going up to Northern Michigan and being a barn cat...(not a bad life for a cat).
He's lived in detroit, San Francisco, and now Palm Springs, and 16 years later he is still perfect......well, except for when he bites me.
Those in need that are chosen, are always the best.
It is ridiculous to set a detective story in New York City. New York City is itself a detective story...
AGATHA CHRISTIE, Life magazine, May 14, 1956