Today is this furry little monster's birthday. He is eleven years old. If I knew the conversion formula to cat years, I would share that information with you. Since he is now officially a basement dweller, I will be spending the greater part of the day with him while I begin painting the guest bedroom. I'll send Reid out for a celebratory can of tuna later. I'd poke eleven candles into it but they fall over. The poor structural integrity of tuna accounts for this, plus Newt isn't very good at blowing them out. I loves you, my tigercat!
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