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Because when my life isn't about TV, it's about the cats
Pan-Pan has, of late, decided that he needs to live inside my ribcage. I keep trying to tell him there isn't enough room in there for both him and my internal organs, but he's hell-bent on testing the theory anyway.
I've turned up the heat a bit in the apartment in the vain hopes that it's only because he's feeling chilly that he keeps trying to burrow in under my spleen.
Ow.
Right now I've managed to persuade him to cuddle up with George on top of my feet. I now have no feeling at all in my toes, but it's better than the alternative.
I've turned up the heat a bit in the apartment in the vain hopes that it's only because he's feeling chilly that he keeps trying to burrow in under my spleen.
Ow.
Right now I've managed to persuade him to cuddle up with George on top of my feet. I now have no feeling at all in my toes, but it's better than the alternative.