From back cover: "Felix (not his real name) a tabby in middle cathood, came to me complaining of depression. After we sniffed each other politely on my office rug, I asked Felix to make himself comfortable in a grocery bag on the couch. In spite of his suffering I sensed his potential to be a charming member of society--in technical terms, a real pussycat . . . I prescribed catnip at our second session."
Listening to Prozac meets Why Cats Paint in this hilariously deadpan exploration of feline neuroses.