[What is the animal waiting for, an invitation to mosey along? Well, whatever, as long as it's out of his sight and his space. Victor starts to shut the door, but he's not quite quick enough--the cat dashes between his legs, back to the scene of her crime.]
Hey--
[Why is this his life? Picking up strays is supposed to be Malcolm's job, not his.]
and some yet live, treading the thorny road - Post a comment
which leads, through toil and hate, to fame’s serene abode