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He wriggles to get comfortable, letting out a pleased sigh, and I swear he’s like a stray cat scoping out the new home he’s about to invade. And maybe things could be different from now. Maybe we could upgrade to frenemies. “If you pee on my rug, I’ll be so mad,” I tell him. Dawson jolts, staring like I’m insane. “What? Why would I—oh. Marking my territory, huh?”
