QUOTE : Fuzzy Britches was not an immediate success with Lowell. "Where's its legs?" he said darkly. "If it's a Martian, it ought to have three legs." "Well," argued Castor, "some Martians don't have legs." "Prove it!" "This one doesn't. That proves it." Meade picked Fuzzy Britches up; it immediately began to buzz—whereupon Lowell demanded to hold it. Meade passed it over. "I don't see," she remarked, "why anything as helpless as that would have such bright colors." "Think again, honey lamb," advised Hazel. "Put that thing out on the desert sand and you would lose it at ten feet. Which might be a good idea." "No!" answered Lowell. "'No' what, dear?" "Don't you lose Fuzzy Britches. He's mine." The child left carrying the flat cat and cooing a lullaby to it. Fuzzy Britches might lack legs but it knew how to win friends; anyone who picked it up hated to put it down. There was something intensely satisfying about petting the furry thing. Hazel tried to analyze it but could not.