Anyway, I love him to pieces.

Another thing. Marcello comforts me. Calms me. When I’m having an anxiety attack. Which I occasionally do.  That’s part of  human nature.  Marcello, meanwhile, is a cool cat. Laid back. Seldom gets flustered. Shows me the way to peace and tranquility. Couldn’t find a better psychotherapist.  Sometimes, he doesn’t even have to speak. His mere presence. In my lap. Is enough. To send me to Nirvana. Marcello emits good vibes. That penetrate my inner core.  He’s better than a doctor. More soothing.  Brings my blood pressure into the normal range. No white coat syndrome. Instead, he dons his radiant reddish fur coat. Similar to a lion’s. Enough to scare a mouse to death. But really. At heart. He’s not a killer. He knows mouse language. Talks to the mouse. Socializes. And may allow the mouse to scamper off. To freedom. But hey. He can be ruthless as a human, too.  A killer. Says that’s the way his mother raised him.  But he also has cultivated a conscience. A live-and-let-live attitude. Yes, he’s a thinking, self-taught cat. With a brain. Gotta admit. He puts me to shame. I’m the dunce. He’s pure genius. Anyway, I love him to pieces. --Jim Broede