A cat is a cat, oh brat, oh brat. Tiger-Ann somehow got outside and checked things out on this cold, dark, lurid night. She was being very bad.
She looked over to her favorite eucalyptus tree. Should she run over there and play?She thought she saw a ghost wearing sandals.
When I came out to catch her, she became peevish or worse. She imagined lightning hitting the tree above my head.
Cats are very bratty, boy. Even the best of them.
1 comment:
Yes, bratty. Very bratty.
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