There is only one cat in the world Henry hates more than anything, even dogs, and that is Aunt Deborah's feline devil, Pussywillow.
Henry is a self-proclaimed cat person: cats with furry bellies, soft paws, tickling whiskers are his weakness. Big round eyes, the fuzziest ears, and their pink(more) padded tongues make his heart melt.
Pussywillow is the embodiment of all these things. She might be the most beautiful cat anybody'd ever seen, bought from a breeder who specialised in Siamese cats. But Pussywillow absolutely hates Henry with all its soft body and its evil, evil mind, Henry knows it for a fact. Aunt Deborah may insist that Pussywillow means no harm, but Aunt Deborah doesn't know the full extent of her pet's evil.
Henry sits on the armchair, a book open on his lap but unread. Instead, his eyes are fixed on the cat that rests feet away from him, innocently whipping at a pink ball of yarn.
The plump woman in a flowery sundress watches Henry and Pussywillow in amusement. "Henry," she interjects. "Pussywillow is not evil. You're being paranoid."
Henry glances up at her. "Aunt Deborah, you're just oblivious," he fires back, though his voice without an edge. He rises slowly from his chair, his eyes never tearing away from the cat. "I'm going to go to the restroom," he announces, placing his book on the chair. Aunt Deborah chuckles with amusement and returns to the kitchen, where the sweet scent of chocolate chip cookies wafts out.
In moments, when Henry returns from the restroom--"Pussywillow!"
Aunt Deborah scrambles out the kitchen in alarm. She finds herself looking at Henry, standing flabbergasted by the armchair; Pussywillow, still pawing at his yarn; and the book on the chair, ravaged and torn.
"It was a library book!"(less)