Imagine, fair readers, that one was once housed in a charming abode, where there were many clear windows which overlooked a lush grounds, and one was able to enter and exit by means of these windows, and consort with one's own kind, and pursue one's supper [bring half-dead mice inside and leave them in the bathtub --ed] in a natural manner. And by some cruel force of circumstance, one was then taken from this glad environment and removed to a fulsome and minuscule apartment, with no method of egress and no manner of recreation other than marking the passing of each interminable day [also, hiding the Rejectionist's laundry quarters underneath the couch --ed]. One might find this progression of events quite unsettling, and perhaps suffer a marked decline in well-being. One might also have expectations that the author of this misfortune must needs take pity upon one, and thus provide some more stimulating method of whiling away the hours; but no, such is not the case when one is imprisoned by an entirely displeasing individual, this self-styled Rejectionist, whose paltry veneer of intellect is a thin disguise for the ribald and imbecilic monster lurking only just beneath the surface. Such an affront to one's dignity, this tedious existence! this loathsome prison! this cheap plastic bowl filled with noxious crunchies [THE MOST EXPENSIVE CAT FOOD IN THE GODDAMN HOLISTIC PET STORE --ed]!

O, rosy-cheek'd and noble readers, mayhap you shall offer the divine succor of your sympathy to this poor creature, shut away in her wretched bower with only the oleaginous Rejectionist for company! That meretricious sycophant, shouting endlessly about "werewolf books" and "racism" [ONLY SOMETIMES --ed] and yet unable to so much as refresh the catnip mouse! Even fair-spoken Support Team is no match for the Rejectionist's noisome personage, whose odiousness is without bound! And yet: a small ray of hope! one discovers a delightful manual of cookery, with full-color photographs of one's most beloved comestible! O sushi, cats of many stripes wish verily to devour you! But an insurmountable obstacle presents itself: one hasn't any thumbs, and cannot prepare this delicacy. O calumny! O indignity of evolution! And lo, nefarious Rejectionist cannot be bothered to come to one's aid, despite the many evenings one has spent submitting to the Rejectionist's vile caresses [trying to sleep on the Rejectionist's face --ed] and patiently enduring the inebriated Rejectionist crashing about, awakening one from peaceful slumber [ONLY BECAUSE YOU SLEEP 23 HOURS A DAY, LOLA PANTS, WHILE THE REJECTIONIST IS WORKING HER GODDAMN ASS OFF TO KEEP YOU IN $22/LB KIBBLE --ed]! So, fair readers, though this humble cat wished to present you with a fair assessment of the recipes contained within this book like so many treasures, she cannot; instead you might turn your prayers toward her liberation, that she may leave behind this drudgery [as if you would last three minutes on the streets of Brooklyn, Lola Pants --ed].