“Ah, I am indeed the ‘good king of cats’, the all-time fellow with largest jowls and warmest nature…I write poetry and drama, but I do prefer the 16^th century from whence I came to all this clatter and tumult of now. And, truth be told, speaking of that past century, I probably do more resemble Henry VIII than I do The Bard. But I am kinder and gentler and never had the head lopped off a single one of my, no doubt, many wives.”

“True, I am large, but I am not very old – maybe a couple of years, I think. And, before you lament my ears, they are supposed to be just as they are! I am a Scottish Fold, well, mostly, anyway, and we style our ears just that way. Also our jowls. I am real, real as they come.”

“I am told that I was found wandering in Bloomington – whatever that may be – and off I went to Animal Control. The King of Cats did not deserve this. He deserves real people, loving people, people who want to share their lives with a laid-back, charming, cuddly white and tabby prince who likes nothing more than friends, naps, and really good food.”

“Come sit with me and fall in love. Perhaps I will write you a sonnet. Perhaps you will write me a sonnet. Perhaps we will hug each other and sing merry songs together – Mrow! Mee-row! Mroo! I am indeed the ‘good king of cats’, and I love people who sink their knobby fingers into my soft and copious fur. Ah, I have fur, fur of good cat, fur of lovable, huggable, great big guy cat!”

“I am Shakespeare, and I seek my Stratford-on-Avon, my stage, my place to perform, and you as my enthralled audience. I am indeed a good fellow – perhaps not a jolly – rather a jowly good fellow. I believe in love – it’s really that simple. I believe in people with laps and bonus-size cat food dishes and long, lazy naps in the afternoon sun. And all this fabulous and poetic cat for $120. Please stop in – and take me home!”