Mama-Cat, who adopted us, began narrating her tale to me, in her own special voice. She tells us that if there is any impression she would wish her autobiography to engender, it would be that there are deep dimensions of love which resonate eternally- bonds of connectedness that even death cannot destroy. The Autobiography of a Granada Cat: As told to Harley White "They call me Mama-cat and I answer to it, so I suppose that is my name, though it wasn't always. I was born in Andalusia, southern Spain, in Granada, an area that is hot in summer and cold in winter." So begins the picaresque,...

"They call me Mama-cat and I answer to it, so I suppose that is my name, though it wasn't always. I was born in Andalusia, southern Spain, in Granada, an area that is hot in summer and cold in winter, and I survived thanks to the ingenuity of my mother, who hid me in a deserted house along with the brothers and sisters of my litter." So begins the picaresque, picturesque tale, true in the telling by its feline protagonist. She describes her neighborhood, of streets piled upward upon streets, the old city on the hill, with its labyrinth of narrow winding lanes, the Albaicin's spectacular...

"They call me Mama-cat and I answer to it, so I suppose that is my name, though it wasn't always. I was born in Andalusia, southern Spain, in Granada, an area that is hot in summer and cold in winter, and I survived thanks to the ingenuity of my mother, who hid me in a deserted house along with the brothers and sisters of my litter." So begins the picaresque, picturesque tale, true in the telling by its feline protagonist. She describes her neighborhood, of streets piled upward upon streets, the old city on the hill, with its labyrinth of narrow winding lanes, the Albaicin's spectacular...