My friend Alley called me today. A pleasant Sunday afternoon surprise. During our conversation she said, "Guess what I'm looking at," then described to me the scene of her two cats unfolding before her: Jack, the scraggly one with red fur (I love Jackie; so does Alley's husband, who gets a kick out of the cat's indifference and says that "indifference is the greatest aphrodisiac"), was prowling behind her newest kitten, contemplating an attack.
I told her that my Dibby tiger was sleeping on my pillow next to me, and I scratched his head.
Alley's cats.
My cat.
Alley cats.
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