it’s not my cat…

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i arrive home with armloads of groceries, thanksgiving leftovers and kitchenware to listen to the upstairs’ cat bawling. he is hungry and lonely. he is blonde. he is not allowed downstairs. i open the door (shimmy the lock) and give him some of my turkey and fresh water. he purrs non-stop for the next 3 hours…when they arrive home i have to admit…”i stole your cat.” Jonny is rotten.

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