She lives under my car and sleeps on my porch.
I guess she is my cat.
This is your cat. When winter comes, you'll let her in. That's when it will become official. She knows this. It's just a matter of time.
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This isn't my cat
Brother, I've got some news for you.
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You don't own her. She owns you. Cats famously are very protective of their property
Itβs not that sheβs your cat, itβs that b youβre her human. To believe anything else is pure folly.
π½οΈ 1
It could be a shape-shifting spy, Kratos.
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How does that sundial on your chest work? (I really hope I'm not being offensive about something meaningful to you)
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Ceci n'est pas mon chat
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My (cat person) mom has the following axiom: if the cat is at your home, it is your cat
Its Fenrir, he just need to grow a little. Haha.
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