The Song Of The Prisoner In The Basement

This cat blending thing is clearly going to be a long term project and except when I can give supervision my full attention I have to either shut Fergie and Nickel on the top floor — where they have each other and some primo sunbeams — or lock Torvald in the laundry room. Frequently he complains, which makes me feel horribly guilty, even though by now he has palatial digs down there, with a fleece lined chair, electric radiator, scatter rugs and a cat tree.

It’s kind of like that, only louder.

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