Every night, Lovelace here jumps onto the dresser, leans against the dyson, and meeps until I pet her.
I’m sure I’ve shared this picture/story before, but I must beg for an indulgence here: she’s damned elusive photographic prey. I have like three hundred photos of “fan time” as we call it, and a hundred grainy-ass sasquatch-quality snaps of her fleeing in the darkness behind furniture or the dog.
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