Gwen Cooper. Homer's Odyssey (№ 305116)

This cat, who feels a flake of tuna from three rooms down from her; a cat that shoots five feet in height to shoot down on a fly buzzing fly. And this despite the fact that any jump from the back of a chair or table top is a jump at random across the chasm. Chasing a ball along the corridor - it is an act that conceals the real courage. And for any conquered peak, be it curtain or kitchen counter, for any offer of friendship to a stranger, for each step made on a whim in a black void of the world around you - courage. No dog, no cane, no special markings to warn about the size and the degree of danger that lie ahead, it does not. My other cats, glancing out the window, know that the world in which they live, there are limits; these limits and their limited knowledge of the universe. The world in which he lives Homer, boundless and inexhaustible for knowledge. Any room, wherever he went, contains a great many unknown variables with your own content, and even is infinity. But, with only a speculative idea about the ratio of time and space, somehow Homer escapes outside of both.