The Cat Who Ate Danish Modern

Beware of the clever ones; the dumb ones are safer.

Qwilleran placed the cat on the seat of the sofa, shifted him around at the direction of the photographer, folded one of the velvety brown forepaws under in an attitude of lordly ease, and arranged the silky brown tail in a photogenic curve. Throughout the proceeding Koko purred loudly. “Will he stay like that without moving?” Bunsen asked. “Sure. He’ll stay if I say so.” Qwilleran gave Koko’s fur a final smoothing and stepped back, saying, “Stay! Stay there!” And Koko calmly stood up, jumped to the floor, and walked out of the room with vertical tail expressing his indifference.

We call this building the Architects’ Revenge. The balconies are designed to be too sunny, too windy, and too dirty. The cinders that hurtle through my living room are capable of putting out an eyeball. But it’s a good address. Some of the best people live in this building, several of them blind in one eye.

Qwilleran worked hard and fast at the office that day, while the clerk in the Feature Department intercepted all phone calls and uninvited visitors with the simple explanation that permits no appeal, no argument, no exceptions. “Sorry, he’s on deadline.

just a pied-à-terre that he uses for business entertaining, but it’s tastefully done in wall-to-wall money. And the colors are smart—in a ghastly way. I’ve used Eggplant, Spinach, and Overripe Melon.

Billions are spent for neurophysiological research to control human behavior, he reflected. Beauty shops would be cheaper.