The cat has Sandra's attention from the moment she hops onto the dining room table, begging for breakfast like she's always lived here.
Alpha is less impressed.
"That thing looks mangy. Put it outside before Father sees."
Sandra feels compelled to defend a fellow lady: "Your hair would get tangled too, if you were a stray."
She reaches over to stroke the cat between her ears. The cat purrs, first in quiet little starts, then once she remembers how a happy rumble.
"I'm naming her Mitsy," Sandra announces, and when Alpha isn't watching she feeds Mitsy bits of his omelette.