by the evidence of my good parenting, the warm-hearted boy cat informs me that his box needs changing by ever so subtly taking a piss in the bathroom sink (reading further back will inform you that this is not the first time this has happened). Lesser bonds would be served by a hot pile on the pillow. I praise him and present his decency to the heavens.
The thick vein of love into which I dip my face and pour my compulsions again high-fives my little life.
Yes.
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