Under surveillance

[Censoras de mi trabajo]

Another peculiarity of Mrs Tinckham's shop is that it is full of cats. An ever-increasing family of tabbies, sprung from one enormous matriarch, sit upon the counter and on the empty shelves, somnolent and contemplative, their amber eyes narrowed and winking in the sun, a reluctant slit of liquid in an expanse of hot fur. When I come in, one often leaps down and onto my knee, where it sits for a while in a sedative objective way, before slinking into the street and along by the shop fronts.

[Iris MURDOCH 2002 Under the Net. London: Vintage. P.17]