My mother likes to tell the story of how they put the tree inside the playpen when me and twin were small. They’re was a (lost now?) photo of me, sibling, and the cats just staring up at the contained tree.
I actually took a wad of hair I brushed off of one of my cats and rolled it into a felted ball by hand. She passed away six years ago, but I still keep that hairball around. Nobody seems to appreciate when I show it to them, especially when I say “hold out your hand” and drop it in their open palm, even though I reassure them that it’s made of dead cat.
garfield
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