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Show By Maxwell Hamilton I Hate Cats The story of a very odd couple —one a confirmed dog lover, the other with a “mcow” 5 tures. t fit are exsen- tial to health. See your dentist regularly. TREASURE Find buried gold, silver. coins, treasures. 5 Powerful models. tele PHOTO POSTER DeptW822 Write tor tree catalog -m $19% RELCO ois bee 210 E. 23 St. N.Y. 10010 BOX 10828, HOUSTON, TEX. 77018 RTTeae AD csr ral deve we nies Paareae tk: color frames magnify fine print, make it easier to do lose, precison work. Metal hinges for 0 ithout eye ply need magnifying lenses. If not satisfied, return postpaid in 30 days for full refund. $4.98 State age, sex. Add 45¢ postage. WEL-KING PRODUCTS, Dept. 09000000 (811 Wyandotte St, Kansas City, Me. 64105 BE PATRIOTIC — Weara flag on your uniform or jacket. Swiss embroidered in fuli color. 3” x 2”, dry clean or launder. i You icng ven temporarily, to ease those pains, until the couse Jonhson City; Tenn. 37601 When You Order Mail From Family Weekly. . . to :it tiif| i iif I,iIi i ailen si eb © BUY DIRECT © 20 DAYS FREE TRIAL Body Aids $29.95 up. Viny All-in-the-Ear; ind-the-Ear; Eye Glass Aids. One of lar. PHOTO CREDITS gest selections. Battery prices low as $2.00 for six No.675 . No salesman yyiilcali. Paye 7: U.P.t. Page 15: BIPS. Write: LLOVD Core. Dept. FW, 905 9th St, Rockford, Ill. 61108 All right, Il say it again—I hate cats. What I am is a dog-man, see? A firm believer that happiness is a warm puppy, a man’s best friend is his dog and that Old Rover will still be at my side when everyone else has fled. Tve been a dog-man since they gave me a d Airedale pup when I was seven years old, and Rusty—what else do you call an Airedale?—used to sleep at the foot of my bed, follow meto school, greet me with joyous leaps and cartwheels when we'd been separated for more than 20 minutes, and chew on my Keds under the table till I passed him a scrap from myplate. Rusty was followed by Spike, Sam and Rusty Two, other Airedales, and by Chips, a gentle English bull. I loved themall. Migo arrived after I'd been married a few years. Migo was neither Airedale nor English bull. Migo was a cat, a herringbone-gray crea- ture, smug, aloof, evil and without a leap or cartwheel in his entire stupid body. He belonged to my wife, and he taught me to hate cats the day he arrived on our scene and sank his claws into my arkle as I walked into the kitchen and demanded to know “How did thet get in here?” From then on, Migo—short for amigo, a misnomer if I ever saw one!—and I were open antagonists. He seemed to know I hated his cat Family Weekly, September 5, 1971 guts and thatI lived only for the chance to sell him to some passing violin maker. He progressed from attacking my legs to doing what they call “sharpening his claws” on my back- side. From there he wentto spraying me when I was weeding the garden and had my back turned. He had an instinct for baseball which he exercised bypracticing slides through the vital papers on my desk, and he destroyed 43 pages of a novel Id started and which I will swear would Have won a Pulitzer Prize. He sneered at me when 1 tried being friendly to him (don’t ask why!), and he got on mylap exactly once in the first six mouths we had him—on the night I put on my lint-collecting dress blue Navy uniform in preparation for an Admiral’s inspection. I drew 10 demerits for having cat hairs on my pants. The crusher came early one morning when, having been awake with insomnia until sometime after 3, I finally fell asleep, only to have Migo wake me 10 minutes later bysitting on my chest and licking my chin with his sandpaper tongue (he’d decided he wanted someone to get up and play with him). The showdown came at breakfast. “Today,” I growled to my wife in my best man-of-thehouse basso, “one of us has to go—Migo or me!” She weighed this proposition thoughtfully (1 |