I interrupt my recent mute-i-tude to observe that I've just witnessed Branwell run halfway up the chimney breast, where he felled a
daddy long legs with a single swipe, before making a short supper of its poor spindly corpse - in my bed. Bah. Didn't even have the courtesy to eat it off the top of the duvet, either, but got stuck into it between
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Bye, Penny. She looked like a sweetie.
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She sometimes looked like one, but she rarely behaved like one! Poor old puss.
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And RIP, Penny sweetness, all paws and pink nose of you. :(
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D'you know what? A couple of days ago, Mum received a card in the post offering the sender's condolences on the death of her cat.
It was from the vet. The vet who'd put her cat down. O_o
How very odd is the modern world.
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I'm sorry about Penny.
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Thank you xxx
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