I promise that I won’t become one of those people and torture everybody with endless cat updates but this morning Klara left the garage door open, the cat escaped, and I spent my morning running around the neighborhood, yelling pitifully, “Misty! Misty! Where are you?”
Misty came back with a guilty look on her face but not covered in blood or guts of murdered birds, so I’m hopeful she didn’t get into too much mischief.

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