A low growling sound has me whipping my head toward the couch. I don’t see anything, but then I hear it again. It sounds like it belongs in some kind of horror movie. “Do you have a dog?” I ask, still eyeing the sofa. Parker rolls her eyes. “That’s just Mr. Eds. He’s a cat.” “You like cats now? And what kind of name is Mr. Eds? Plural?” “It’s short for Evil Demon Spawn,” she says, like this is a totally normal name for a cat. Or anything else. “And no, I don’t like cats. But I used to volunteer at the shelter, and no one would adopt him. He was set to be euthanized, so I took him in, thinking
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