Not quite a cat. Charlie walked across the room to the ottoman and set the box down. There was a considerable amount of scratching now and a tiny "rrrooww" in a high pitch. "You better come open it," he said with a grin. "Before it claws a hole in the box."
What he had gotten wasn't a cat, per say, it was a baby, ten week old Kneazle. It had enormous ears and a bottle-brush tail.