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Cat and Mouse

By Duane Pesice
1,714 words · 7-minute reading time
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From the author: “He’s been tomcatting,” her announced in the Voice of Death. “He doesn’t know me very well.” I licked my paw, which had a little bit of breakfast still on it, and waited. Her ran hot water.


Cat and Mouse


“He’s been tomcatting,” her announced in the Voice of Death. “He doesn’t know me very well.”

I licked my paw, which had a little bit of breakfast still on it, and waited. Her ran hot water.

“He just doesn’t.” Him doesn’t, either. I have heard him say so.

Her commenced scrubbing dishes. Me stayed around to hear the rest, even though my brothers were outside and I felt like playing. Me hid my intent by going by the rainy room. Noticed that him’s hairbrush has content.

Me thought about pulling it out but reasoned that it wouldn’t be entertaining enough. So me prowled around in the hall for a few minutes while her finished her monologue.

“Bring a strange woman into my house unannounced and expect me to like it. I don’t think so,” her continued. “Old friend, my ass. Well, old, I buy.” Her scrubbed furiously. Me could hear the Velcro squeak from fifteen feet away. “And expect me to agree to put her up, and just assume it was fine. I’m certainly not in agreement with that,...

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Duane Pesice

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