My neighbor next door is a morose misanthrope.
If you ring her doorbell, her icy, stoic nature will envelop you.
It seems as if there is no exuberance in her life.
However, there is one pleasure.
Her cats: her progeny.
She is the ultimate cat lady; dispassionate in everything else.
Although she is practically insolvent, she is never parsimonious when it comes to her cats.
When the cats play, she writhes on the floor with them.
She coalesces when they eat.
Some days I see her in the window wearing cat ears and a tail.
The cat lady is becoming a cat.
If you ring her doorbell, her icy, stoic nature will envelop you.
It seems as if there is no exuberance in her life.
However, there is one pleasure.
Her cats: her progeny.
She is the ultimate cat lady; dispassionate in everything else.
Although she is practically insolvent, she is never parsimonious when it comes to her cats.
When the cats play, she writhes on the floor with them.
She coalesces when they eat.
Some days I see her in the window wearing cat ears and a tail.
The cat lady is becoming a cat.
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