My friends have animals doing their dirty work for them now. Look what I just got in my email:
Hi ther nice laydee. Anty cari tole me that mebbe you wer movingg ouwt heer to nu yawrk to liv weeth mee an I jus wann say that my baggs er packt an eym wayting fur you ta com git me.
Ey lov anty cari jus fine but I no yu ar my mom probabbabbly.
Pitiful peony the sidewalk kitty
How can one continue to resist such coercion? Help! (Can’t you just see the kitty? Sitting on the stoop, bags packed next to her, craning her little fluffy head up and down the block? Sigh….) And speaking of fluffy heads, did you see who Greta met?
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