I don’t get cats. I think that one I see in the mourning must have a split personality disorder.
One day, she comes running to greet me at the edge of the property. She lies down on her side and wants a pet. She’s got a nice orange, black, brown, and white coat. The next day, she won’t come when I call and sits on her porch giving me this evil blank stare. Maybe I smell of the dogs that greet me on the trail.
One day, she comes running to greet me at the edge of the property. She lies down on her side and wants a pet. She’s got a nice orange, black, brown, and white coat. The next day, she won’t come when I call and sits on her porch giving me this evil blank stare. Maybe I smell of the dogs that greet me on the trail.

