Sometimes when I’m sure that my heart has all but frozen, I have a fleeting tender moment with my roommate’s cat. This cat is temperamental with a diva’s caprice. She is only entertained by cardboard boxes, grocery bags and the leather straps from boots, and she grows bored of playing as soon as she starts. She sneaks into my room to admire and paw at herself in the full-length mirror, but she refuses to look a camera in its eye. She’s incidentally the most affectionate feline I’ve ever known; she never leaves me to eat or work on the computer in peace, as she insists on cuddling (and shedding) in my lap. After 23 years of perhaps unfounded cat hatred, I am now a bona fide cat lady with regard to one particular furball.