Signs

A-L: Hi Kitty, I miss you.

Kitty: Have you found a job yet?

A-L: Not yet, but things are looking up.

Kitty: I knew things would turn around. You know, until last Sunday Mercury was in retrograde.

A-L: Is that near Glasgow?

Kitty: No, it's a planet, and its position was impeding your job search.

A-L: I didn't know you believed in that stuff.

Kitty: Of course I do. I'm a typical Taurus.

A-L: What makes you think you're a Taurus?

Kitty: My birthday is May 11, 2005, and I exhibit all the Taurus traits. I'm stubborn, reliable, a financial wizard, and I like a comfortable life and expensive things.

A-L: I hate to break it to you, but no one knows when you were born, or even how old you are. I made up that date. You could be 14 years old for all I know. And a Capricorn.

Kitty: But I'm twelve days older than Annais. And I was a tiny kitten when you stole me.

A-L: You were small, but I always attributed that to cigarette smoke having stunted your growth.

Kitty: I never smoked.

A-L: Yes, but you always lived with people who did. I bet you've got a half-pack-a-day secondhand smoker's habit. It was Paul's plan to stunt your growth, and market you as a Shetland Kitten, online.

Kitty: Then maybe the Obama family would want me.

A-L: As if. The last thing they need on their family holidays is a stubborn cat complaining that the thread-count on the hotel sheets isn't high enough.