Ragging About Tuna. Again.

I should have suspected something was up when I returned home and noticed the huge pile of rags I keep on hand for cleaning had disappeared from the table. I had them out to purge the inventory—there comes a time when even Noah’s flood doesn’t require as many ripped sheets, shirts and towels as I possess—to find Tuna had made himself a nest and was happily pulling threads from one particular swatch. The cat finds ways to entertain himself that leave me wondering why I can’t get this much delight from simplicity. Lesson #100 learned from the cat.

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