I sit in a corner of the long abandoned chicken house, still as a statue. The sight of me must be strange; I wear my mother's heavy jacket over my jeans and light sweater and my five year-old hands are cartoon-ish in my stepfather's thick work gloves
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Also? Thank you.
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I'd love to hear about your stray people!
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I, too, was a "stray cat whisperer" in my youth... and the two most wonderful, loving cats I have ever known were strays that I helped bring in from the cold.
Thank you so, so much for bringing back those wonderful memories.
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