It's been brought to my attention that maybe the dead animal gifts left on my doorstep are not specifically for me.
Maybe Mr. Big Fat Kitty Cat has a secret admirer. Maybe some nice neighborhood girl cat (or boy cat...there's nothing wrong with that) has a little crush on Mr. I Sleep In The Middle Of The Bed And I Don't Even Care Who Owns The Bed.
And I'm thinking Mr. I Can Eat As Many Sets Of POD Earphones As You Can Possibly Purchase better start learning to wield the Dead Animal Shovel (patent pending) and take control of the carcass situation...before he finds himself taking a little ride behind the garage on it, so to speak.
I'm just saying.
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