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Their feet were fast as lightnin'.
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We buried Casper under our persimmon trees, on a little rise in the yard where he can see other cats coming and give them a ghostly ass-kicking. (He was a scrappy little fellow.)
I was so out of it when I got up this morning, I opened the door to put food in his bowl before I remembered. Damn it.
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How's this for a roller coaster day: After the trauma of finding Casper, S. went on to receive a phone call from an ex-president's daughter asking him to be the private chef for their family Christmas dinner and then he got a callback on another huge, huge job.
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Me? I spent my day fending off the charge's chatty grandma, who is visiting this week. She's very nice, but she wants to talk to me, which in turn leads to the charge not getting much attention and doing what 2-year-olds do to GET attention. Hopefully today will go a little more smoothly.
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