Tyrone: “Never — but never — come when your name is called. In fact, the moment you hear your name, compress your body into the size of an olive, become as still and invisible as a salesperson at Bloomingdale's, and go back to sleep.”
Cleo: “…then my daddy got to the check-in desk and announced in a loud stentorian voice that his stupid cat was constipated. Hey, buddy, could you say it a little louder? I don't think the folks in Ames, Iowa, heard you.”
From dreaming of catnip fields and tummy rubs to driving their mommies crazy, Cleo and Tyrone keep a busy schedule. But they take time out to correspond and share their thoughts — polemics really — about dogs, fashion, real estate, medical science, fine dining, cinema, poetry (haiku included), and the pitiful state of their owners' social lives.
More than treatises on the feline and human condition, this is also a love story. Cleo and Tyrone often dramatically — ok, melodramatically — compare themselves to Romeo and Juliet, blaming their evil owners for keeping them apart.
Cleo and Tyrone can each be vain, self-centered and manipulative, but somehow, in spite of all their scheming ways, they still manage to wrap their furry little paws around your heart and hold on for a lifetime.
