I am a very well mannered Persian cat who never climbed on furniture and was civil to the resident (excuse the language) dog. But when I generously bestowed my long hair on the carpet, I suddenly found myself in a cage in a room with many other cats. They were kind to me there but I wanted a real home.

One day a man came who saw my photo in the newspaper. I could tell he was properly respectful of my distinguished ancestry so I licked his hand to show my approval.

He took me home with him and named me "Bismarck" after a 19th century German chancellor with a pug face just like mine (he must have been very handsome for a human!). Now I have my own room, good food and two devoted humans who
follow my orders to buy food weekly for the less fortunate Humane Society kitties.

Update 12/27/2000

I have properly trained my servants because they know I am a prince. I just got my own bed for Christmas and will NOT share it with that small dog by the name of Scrunchy. Once in a while I walk up to her and hit her - just to make sure she is properly respectful. Actually, that mentally challenged dog thinks I am petting her. One good thing, Scrunchy is as white as I am, but has no idea of grooming. So I clean her once in a while. Nice family though. I am King of the Castle.

Update 9/18/01

Our beloved Bismarck died of kidney failure on 9/10/2001. He lives on forever in our memories.

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