My cat stretches out, yawning like he’s had the hardest day of all, when he’s pretty much done nothing but gotten two delicious meals, oodles of treats, and countless naps.
“Holly, don’t you remember? Woodsen is allergic to shellfish,” Quinn says and turns to me, looking apologetic as everyone else starts swarming the food. “Oh, she is?”
So Holly is a bitch… good to know
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