Velma was listening to the radio, thinking about the city townhouse where she would soon have a room of her very own.
She was quite looking forward to living with Sherman, the black cat following a long line of black dogs that went everywhere with her new roommate and old friend, Scarlett. Cats were better pets by far, she decided. Much less needy.
Aloof at times, a cat in the lap promoted inner peace. And a good purr was the best sleep aid she’d ever known.
Purring is medicinal, she thought to herself. And smiled.
Judy Garland came on the radio.
She sang a boozy nightclub song. Velma didn’t know why, but she knew it and sang along.