“Good afternoon – should I wake up from my nap? I am sweet, gentle, and usually kind, although not to whippersnapper kittens who want to pounce my tail. We do not do that in Rafferty’s world. I am a genuine black cat, accidentally collected by animal control somewhere in St. Paul, and I am very happy to be here – and not there, at animal control! Woe is me – somewhere along the line I lost my front claws. I suppose some human thought that a good idea. It wasn’t.”

“I’m very soft and love to be petted, although, please pet slowly in this dry air. We don’t want sparks flying and starting a fire. Here and there, you’ll see random white hairs scattered over me. No, I’m not turning grey; it’s just me. I met another black cat, a guy, with the same white hairs; he said he thinks it means we have Siamese folks in our ancestry. He sounded Siamese-ish; the pudgy woman downstairs says that I do, too. But I don’t yowl-owl-owl. Well, rarely. Mostly, I squeak; it means ‘love on me’.”

“Here’s the surprise! I’m a girl! I know – Rafferty – sounds like a big old 1952 Boston beat cop, huh. Not from Boston, not a cop, and, most definitely, not a guy. I’m guessing those animal control folks figured I was a guy because I assert myself and know my own mind. Hah! Plenty of us girls do that, too.”

“But the real story is – my name is Rafferty. I used to own a bar in NorthEast – north east Minneapolis, that is – called Rafferty’s. Right near St. John’s Byzantine Church. Mom and Dad opened the bar – 40 years ago. And if you don’t believe that, just step right up and order a beer. You’ll see I do know what I’m doing.”

“Let’s get serious. I’m a charming, pettable, lovable gal. There’s nothing better to come home to than a fine, shiny black cat sleeping peacefully on your sofa. And I am a fine, shiny black girl cat. And I would love your sofa to sleep on. Stop by Feline Rescue with $120 stuffed in your warm winter coat, and adopt me. I’ll love you – and might even pour you a beer – or a glass of merlot.”