Erm…on second thought, be it known: I am full of well-meaning baloney.
Funny thing, this business of ownership.
These pink polka-dot socks on my feet are mine. The half-finished cup vat of green tea on my desk is mine. Your patience with my strange sense of humor is all yours (bless your heart). But in what sense - if any - is a cat really yours or mine? Do we - can we - ever own a living, feeling soul wrapped in purr and fur and awesomeness?