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I am a short-legged cat. I live with my big brother Minou and an overly attentive human. This is my story. Today is Friday, April 28, 2017

And to you a wassail too!


Just look at this nonsense. Mom and Roo Mate went out on Saturday to run some errands. Apparently an item on their to-do list was "buy humiliating holiday pet collars," because they returned with not one but two such sartorial torture devices. One of them looks like a tiny Santa collar with jingle bells, and the other is a giant fuzzy wreath with smaller bells. Rumor has it that they wanted to buy a Santa sweater, but at $14.99, it was deemed too expensive.

Yesterday they had some people over for holiday festivities. (Ain't no party like a West Coast party.) While Mom did her cookie-pusher thing, Minou and I were forced to walk around in our new collars. He wore the red one and I sported the wreath — a word which, if you subtract one letter, spells WRATH... which was my initial response. At first, I considered making a sign that said down with festive neckwear. But after a cat nap, I decided that the world was full of love and holiday cheer after all. I sauntered through the apartment, demanding snorgles and compliments on my excellent collar. I blame my happy behavior on the spiked cider, whose rum was poured with a heavy hand.

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Milo Minousky

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