Say hello to Sage...the Fabulous Feline who will fake death for food.

She should be shutting her eyes and hoping not to be recognized. This is Sage, an absolutely stunning four-year-old Blue Mackerel Tabby Maine Coon who's just dying to eat her crunchies.

Sage was adopted from a feline rescue organization after she escaped her original owners during their move. Her favorite pastimes include eating, getting petted, eating, meeting dogs, eating, and supervising all her owner's chores, especially making dinner.

Sage also does tricks. She can sit, lay down, sit up, and play dead. She's always sunny and happy unless she's hiding in terror from her arch-enemy, the vacuum. She has two adopted feline sisters she follows around the house and likes to emulate.

Sage scared her owner pretty badly once, right in the first few months after she was adopted. It was about 3 in the morning when her owner awoke to terrible howling. She went out into the kitchen, and found Sage laying on the floor upside-down howling like she was in serious pain.

Her owner panicked, and went to get a towel, thinking she would have to wrap her up and rush her to the emergency vet. When she returned, the cat was still howling. She leaned over to wrap her in the towel when Sage hopped up, ran over to her (nearly empty) dry food bowl, and patted it with a paw, looking expectantly for a refill.

Now, if she can see any part of the bottom of her dry food bowl, she runs to her owner and cries loudly. A quick shake the bowl so it covers the bottom makes Sage happy again. As you can imagine, her owner tries to keep the bowl full, so Sage has only had to fake her death a few times since then.

Aren't cats cute the way they try to give you a heart attack for their own fiendish pleasure? (Just to prove who's boss.) Hannibal once flopped death-like on the floor of my closet one Saturday night at 11:30 p.m. I picked him up and he flopped back down, collapsing in a heap. Several times I tried to get him to stand, and several times he keeled over. I was panic-stricken. I got Alex out of bed and we drove like maniacs to the Emergency Veterinary Clinic 26 miles away. (I know precisely how far away it is. Yes, we made that gut-wrenching trip many, many times...always late at night.)

Three hours and three hundred dollars later, the emergency room vet announced, "There's absolutely nothing wrong with your cat." Hannibal simply didn't feel like standing up.

Sage, you're the kind of cat we'd love to spank! And we congratulate you on being selected as a Yarnmarket Fabulous Feline!