“Hi, hi! Gotta run! Bruce Springsteen still sings ‘Born to Run’ – and he doesn’t even know Quigley. He should. I think the girl in his song is Wendy – should be Quigley. Quigley was Born to Run. ‘Run, run, runaway….’ – somebody else’s old song, ‘Runaway’. Whoop! Gotta run, under the sink, behind the laundry, up on the shelf and down the hall…Whoop! It’s Quigley – lean, sleek, not mean, running machine.”

“No, I’m not scared of you – not scared of much of anything. I just don’t want to be caught! I’m wild and free, into exploring and pouncing, spreading joyful catness wherever I can, and – whoop! – I don’t want to stop. I like people. I am less sure about other cats. They impede my speed. Whoop! What? You want to talk to me? You want me to talk to you?”

“OK. I’m Quigley. I’m young, maybe 3 years old, and I’m not a lady. I’m cute, I’m fun, but I don’t do dainty, no, I don’t. I am a firm tabby, and a haute couture (high fashion) tabby, by the way. Check out these fine, well-etched stripes – not just scattered run-of-the-mill tabby – serious fine fashionable, never out of style stripes! Whoop!”

“Squeak! Whoop! What’s that? Prey – or predator? It’s on a string, on a stick, and it wiggles like a snake! Should I pounce it? Should I eat it? Or will it eat me? Let’s find out. I crouch. I stare at it. I swing my tail. I pounce! Got it! And, hey, I’m not getting eaten. Must be prey. Must be a toy. Oh, good – Quigley is having fun!”

“Yes, I know – my tail is almost longer than I am. Me and my tail are planning to grow – get even looonnger – and faster. Are you entertained yet? Do you feel the urge for a fast, flying, energetic, goodhearted tabby girl as your personal trainer? Yes, you do. I know you do. Adopt me - $120. ‘Baby, we were born to run!’”