She leaned in close to the cat's face and looked and long and hard at his bright yellow eyes. Only a mother would recognize her son in that sort of fashion, and John was becoming hopeful. "Nope, I don't see any similarities."
"WAHH!??"
"Take that fleabag out before it starts messing up the place." With that, she quickly turned and slammed the door with a loud bang. It was enough to send ear shattering sound waves through Johns ears, and he pulled them back in fright.
"Don't worry John, I'll figure something out." his sister said encouragingly. "We just need to find a way for our mom to recognize you."
"Meow?"

Later in the day, John found himself staring in disgust at his sister's messy closet. Was this where he was supposed to live for the rest of his miserable life? A worn out, cramped area of his sister's room? He gave a meow in protest.

"I'm cleaning it up so stop complaining. If you want somewhere else to sleep, go ask Mom."

<i>Mom?</i> He thought to himself. <i>Right....like I'm going to ask the biggest cat hater in all the world for a place to sleep.</i>

He looked back at his sister's bedroom door and figured he could make a run for it. Anywhere was better than this place. Outside there were trees, fences, bushes, warm buildings and other places to sleep. It was a dog eat dog world, and that he could live with. Still, he had some doubts. His mother had the eyes of a hawk and could spot trouble 100 miles away, even worse, she was allergic to cats. So climbing downstairs and walking out might not be the safest way. What then?