You've heard of the
horse whisperer and the
dog whisperer. I think we have a cat whisperer in the house. That's what I'm calling Frank, because he has made the most progress with Francine.
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If I go near her, she goes all
Penelope on me and runs away. All she needs is the paint splash down her back.
(Penelope, the frightened paramour of Pepe le Pew)
Frank can pick her up, brush her, cuddle her briefly, and feed her cat treats.
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I call that progress.
1 comment:
You'll have that cat doing dishes before summer at this rate!
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