It’s late, I’m feeling a bit better after a hot bath, and I’m trying to wind down for bed BUT there’s a stray cat outside and Arthur has decided to lose his damn puppy mind over it.
Arthur. There are two cats I care about and they are both on this bed. If Pennywise is perched on our balcony, growl. If a serial killer is staring through the window, growl. If Mads Mikkelsen is standing naked on the balcony, by all means, wake me up. But I do not and shall not give a crap about strays wandering about the neighborhood. They’re strays. They do that. Go to sleep.
The Paradox Machine 