When Meals were over, Gatita meowed and purred as Grandma stroked Gatita's glossy fur.
"Whose little cat are you?" Grandma would ask.
But Gatita never answered.
She proudly marched off, tail erect and swishing, nose and whiskers held high in the air and twitching as Gatita breathed in the aroma of the ocean and bays that surrounded her. |
