My cat is declawed. Totally declawed. She lives indoors and bats at the birds and insects through the screen.
Occasionally, she loses her mind and will rush out the back door when I open it. Then she realizes she's out and not in, tops over and lays there like a cat carpet until I pick her up and bring her back inside.
All of this of course only happens when the dogs are not around. When they are, she lives on top of my kitchen cupboards. Or in the one bottom cupboard devoted to her, has her bed, her toys...every once in awhile, I'll walk by that cupboard and it sneezes...
A Novel Woman, AKA Pamela Patchet, was unwittingly born and raised in Toronto instead of Paris. She worked her way from A&W carhop to political advisor to advertising executive where, on any given day, she was called upon to soothe disgruntled clients, cajole temperamental artists, juggle multi-million dollar budgets or locate trained penguins for television commercials. She married a handsome dentist for love and a lifetime of free dental care, raised three kids, and established a freelance writing career, not unlike her earlier jobs, minus the penguins.
1 comment:
Too funny!!
My cat is declawed. Totally declawed. She lives indoors and bats at the birds and insects through the screen.
Occasionally, she loses her mind and will rush out the back door when I open it. Then she realizes she's out and not in, tops over and lays there like a cat carpet until I pick her up and bring her back inside.
All of this of course only happens when the dogs are not around. When they are, she lives on top of my kitchen cupboards. Or in the one bottom cupboard devoted to her, has her bed, her toys...every once in awhile, I'll walk by that cupboard and it sneezes...
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