Cats are pure evil. Before all you cat lovers work yourselves into a huff, you should know that I own a cat. Or rather, my 12-pound, no make that 13-pound (or is it 14-pound?) cat owns me. I believe there are no cat lovers, just people who have never owned dogs. Abe earns his keep with his sparkling personality and the many kisses he gives with his warm, ham tongue. Unfortunately, my time with Abe may be short because Winston is plotting my killing. He wraps his paws around my thigh and sinks his needle teeth into my flesh. Those teeth go through denim, corduroy, or whatever fabric I happen to be wearing. And if I’m wearing shorts? Oh, the pain! He is a chronic ankle biter such that I’m now forced to sit cross-legged whenever I use the computer. You can’t leave raw meat sitting on the floor like that for minutes on end. He turns his nose up at his food and instead eats Abe’s food, which Abe, bless his little doggy heart, allows. Last night during dinner, Winston stretched out his paw and tried to slide Greg’s salmon off the plate. The only redeeming quality Winston — and cats in general — has is his little pink nose and fuzzy body. And yet somehow millions of people allow these creatures to live in their homes. If you need further proof of how useless these creatures are, take a look at www.stuffonmycat.com. I feel a loyalty to Winston that he certainly doesn’t feel toward me. God has somehow endeared these creatures to us such that we can’t bring ourselves to toss them out the window. Or better yet, just open the door and let them leave, as Winston is so eager to do. I love my cat, but only God knows why.