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Thursday, July 31, 2014

July 31. Day 212. The cat's out of the bag

I am thinking of getting a pet cat. I have always loved cats. If there wasn't the small matter of the allergy to cats I am sure I would already be a crazy cat lady. A person can survive on high doses of antihistamine and Ventolin, right? Or perhaps a bird would suit me. Normally I prefer my birds more free range but I'm sure I can get over that. Or fish. My past experience of fish has involved many ending up doing backstroke and having to be flushed but there must be an online course in Gold Fish For Dummies. They don't make great walking companions either, still. Okay, I'm fooling no-one. I'm a dog lover through and through but Rumple and The Fed as testing my patience at the moment. Silent as assassins, they strike. I lay down to have a nap. They joined me on the bed. I woke up and there they were sandwiching me, one on my chest, one on my back. I would have got up in court and put my hand on a bible and said they'd been with me the whole time. The alibi would have been false. At some point, they slid off the bed, broken into the garage and had a merry time pulling things off the shelf. Just to rub it in, most of their destruction had occurred not in the garage but on the carpet right outside my bedroom door. Of course, there are no witnesses. Someone could have broken into my house and framed the poor innocent dogs but I think they let the cat out of the bag when they returned to the scene of the crime ...

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