What, according to the passage, could turn a nerve-shattering maniac into a fluffy darling?
Directions: Answer the given question based on the following passage:
The cat was made for love and warmth and softness. These bring out all her best qualities. She is nearest perfection sleeping in a fluffy coil by the fire, secure of the same warmth in one human heart. We must let sleeping dogs lie, but we can bury our face in a sleeping cat and she stirs only to purr. No waking thoughts were ever more innocent. She is as near as heaven as we can get on earth, blissful, quiet, content. She alone of animals knows how to luxuriate in perfect rest. As she lies in a bath of firelight, listening to the flames, breathing her low contented hum, she does not have to consider getting out and drying herself, but lays her mind to rock on a stream of gentle truthfulness. And when this beautiful petted cat awakes with a wide yawn, and stretches herself bit by bit as if to bring her wandering spirit back by some elaborate conjuror’s trick, she wakes to the life for which she is perfectly fitted. The cat needs human affection. It is not like a rabbit, pleased to eat and frisk in lonely nature and the farther from human notice the better, nor like a sparrow or a mouse, attracted to the haunts of man by crumbs. The wild domestic cat that dodges round corners or bolts up trees, whose claw is against every man and whom every dog chases, is not the natural un-reclaimed cat, but a poor outcast from its natural heritage. Deprived of its security in man’s love the cat becomes almost a nerve-shattered maniac; and yet a little affection will turn it into the fluffy darling.
Not instinct, but experience, makes animals afraid. The young thrush comes within a yard as we sit chatting on the garden seat. Old birds trust us less, except in a land of Buddha. The scared cat is circumstantial evidence of our brutality. Even cats and dogs have no natural antipathy. They get the reputation for it because their habits in the streets are complementary; the cat runs and the dog chases. Not once in a thousand dogs would know what to do with the cat if he caught her. When a cat strikes an attitude in his path, the dog draws round her a polite circle. In a state of nature they would live in perfect amity. A kitten and a puppy greet each other with unguarded trust. Dogs usually become catters only through thoughtlessness or the sporting instinct of their owners. Though always ready to chase anything that runs, they have much kindlier nature than men. A retriever puppy will watch a rabbit hop leisurely across the lawn within ten yards of him, who never saw one dart along the road without giving a chase. An Irish terrier was seen the other day playing with a mouse, and, till the little creature bit his too inquisitive nose, no instinct prompted him to kill it. The same terrier chased the flying beech leaves as if he would catch Autumn before he stopped. If dogs and cats are born with an ultimate hunting instinct, as many blue-eyed babies will ultimately have brown eyes, they certainly start life innocent.
Although cats do not learn tricks invented by their frivolous owners, they adapt themselves very quickly to strange circumstances. Cats imported into Jamaica cleared the country of vermin so effectively that they soon left nothing to eat but insects, and on these, an occasional appetizer in their natural diet, they now live. (The Cat by Katherine M. Wilson)