EITHER YOU ARE for cats or you are against them.
Cassandra, the Daily Mirror's hard (and often) bitten columnist, is for them. Cassandra, in fact, is not quite sane on the subject of cats, like all true cat-worshippers. He has just produced a book (Cassandra's Cars, published by Hutchinsons at 12s. 6d.) which is virtually a prayer book for the use of the devotees of this popular rite. Cassandra is, and always has been, a humble acolyte in the temple, considering it an honour to be allowed to fetch and carry for the resi- dents; this is the proper attitude for a worshipper. In this handsomely produced book, with its photographs that will have his co-religionists kneeling on the floor as they turn the pages, we learn something about the attributes of such household gods as Peaches, who is convinced the entire world is made for her; Kipper, who dropped her kitten into the lavatory-pan by acci- dent and (unable to fish it out) held its head above water for hours until rescue arrived; Sergeant Smokey Joe, who took to the woods in the end; and Messrs. Claude and Percy, who slept for six- teen hours a day, and good luck to them. I don't think Cassandra likes dogs.
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