Joanna here: Just a small blog today, about writers and cats.
Writers and cats are rather ham and eggs, Laurel and Hardy, beans and franks partners. Obvious buddies.
There must be a reason for it. Some cats are obviously born with printers' ink under their claws.
I think it’s because writers sit for long periods of time not doing anything exciting like pounding in nails or cutting hair or making fine adjustment to the sniper scopes on precision rifles. They go typetypetypetype typetypetypetype typetypetypetype typetypetypetype and then sit for several minutes staring into the middle distance.
“If animals could speak, the dog would be a blundering, outspoken fellow, but the cat would have the rare grace of never saying a word too much.”
That's a high compliment from Twain there. A good writer never says a word too much.