There is no logical way to tell when Grendel’s angry. He wiggles, claws, and bites my hand, but if I dare leave him alone he whines like he’s dying a slow, horrible death. So, I end up bent over petting
him behind the trash while he bites my hand & purrs loudly enough to wake
the dead. Meanwhile, Mia climbs on my shoulders and farts. Typical
afternoon.
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