We would love to have a bookstore cat. We think bookstore cats are enchanting. We even have a few candidates at home, and one of those is a sweetie who qualifies as perfect for the job, a loving, dignified and charming example of the feline species. The lady next door in the beauty salon brings her tiny dog every day, so I doubt the landlord would object. But Main Street is also US Highway 50, with a steady rumble of semi-trucks and heavy traffic right outside the door. If the poor kitty got out the door, the result would probably be fatal. So rather than risk it, we have settled for a cat statue of cheap plaster, and the spiritual presence of the tail-less feral cats who once lived in the