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Routine

Somedays, Chopin and my cat are the only friends I've got.
But if we are feeling extra amiable, we will invite Debussy, as well.
Cat will sit on the edge of the sink, watching the water swirl slowly down the drain, her tail twitching in time with the music.
My long locks tend to escape my hairbrush and clog the sink;
And Cat will
fearfully,
timidly,
delicately,
dip her paw in the cool water.
And we all know what happens;
Cat flicks her paw, surprised, even though she knows what happens every time.
But I don't scold Cat when she casts water in my face.
Instead I laugh.




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