Another tiny tragedy.

We have six cats. Except soon we’ll have one less.

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Golden Showers.

It was a long weekend out here in the wilds of southeastern Pennsylvania.  Trying to pack up a second-floor bedroom in oppressive, furnace-like heat takes its toll on a person; eventually you just have to retreat back downstairs into the air conditioning to get some relief.  However, it’s hard to relax when you finally sit down only to realize that there’s cat pee raining from the ceiling.

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Majestic, enigmatic creatures shrouded in mystery.

I’d like you all to meet Grady, one of our six cats.  Grady is about 15 pounds of fluffy grey fur and he’s roughly the size of a Corgi.  He’s also lazy as fuck unless you’re opening a packet of wet food, where he’ll perch on a low shelf, make “meep meep meep” sounds like Beaker from The Muppet Show, and slap you with his paw until you put his food bowl down on the floor.



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