Caviar Tastes...in Some Things

RZA, the neighbour's cat, hangs at our place during the day. We feed her the cheapest, nastiest-smelling canned catfood that No Name brand makes and she loves it, even though it smells like butt. We also have a ball of cheap, nasty, acrylic yarn for her to play with. This morning, however, she decided that she wanted to play with a different ball of yarn. She went onto Ptichka's work table and retrieved a newly purchased (for eight bucks on sale) ball of Italian yarn. I found one end of the ball at Ptichka's table and the ball on the opposite side of the living room. RZA? Was sleeping peacefully on Ptichka's work chair. Brat.


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