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Seamus O’Reilly was not the first. A dreadful little cat, sent down from above, landed on all fours. He - she - it???? might possibly be the answer to the prayer of a lonely woman in New Zealand. Call her Mum.
The first answer to Mum’s prayer, a ginger female called “Honeybelle;" “Honeybelle of Mandalay,” was a bad cat, too destructive, mean to Muffy and sundry visitors.
But this little new comer - answer #2 - might have possibilities, Mum thought. It was fluffy black til a good cleaning changed that to: dark grey kitty on white paws, sex: uncertain at this time.
Anyway, Mum carried it home, took a chance and named it “O’Reilly.” For a while Reilly was a pain you learned to avoid. He - it thought nothing of clawing his way up your leg leaving the incisions for you to staunch. He got a reputation. No one escaped his wounds which ranged over people’s entire bodies. And he became egotistical, and more independent. And before long, a Tomcat. “It” became a “he” and “he” was no way all warm fur and fuzzy. But Reilly had a flip-side.
Mum began to find Reilly increasingly personable. In time he became absolutely adorable. Sometimes . . . Mum was hooked. Tho she continued to muse, “Be careful of what you pray for.”
This charming story is driven by an infectious soliloquy and a moving verbal counterpoint engaging the young Tomcat and his devoted owner.
Time and again the reader is prone to slip into misconceived notions he is witness to ordinary husband-wife talk; only to pause and remember it’s O’Reilly saying those things to Mum! The playful cliches and sophisticated banter frolic in fantasy about the loving soul of this author, in sync with a living world.
To enjoy this perky tale, you don’t have to love a cat.
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