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Twitch tail.   Unblink eyes.

Furniture gone – plenty of dust bunnies to chase and bare boards to skid across, past suitcase and backpack at door – but wrong.

Wrong.   Wrong.   Wrong.

There – look – sitting now on window sill, brazen in nasty sunlight.   Pft.   Sensible creatures stay on kitchen benches in shade of unplugged refridgerators.


“It’s over.   It’s fucking over.   So get the fuck out.”

Looking? – fine.   Glare back.

“You’ve never fucking liked me – we don’t do friendships.   And you’re just a fucking Cat – I’ve been useful to you.   Well now I’m leaving, and who knows if I’m coming back, and you can’t fucking come, so piss off out of here, you little shit.   Who wants a pet for eternity anyway?”


Leap – light feet – off bench to floor.

Stretch – all contempt.

Stroll to door – linger.

Sit unceremoniously and wash under leg assiduously in ultimate feline rude gesture.


Look back.   Pft.







  1. You unleashed that on us? And I thought my nights’ rest would be easier with you on another continent…

  2. Cat left you, you didn’t leave the Cat.

    Don’t think for one second it is the other way around.

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