Lately Lamont was talking to his sisters and said, “While the furless
ones were away last night I got on the computer of the one who only has hair on
his face and a wee bit on top of his head, at least he uses it, the most, the
computer that is not his fur. We rarely see the one who only has fur on her
head using it at all. Anyway, now that we are indoor cats rather than outdoor
cats, I wondered how we compared to our cousins who live outdoors all their
lives.”
Barely pausing from licking her paws, Patchtricia said, “Really, how
industrious of you.”
Pawline then asked, “Okay, Oh mystifier of minds, what did you find
out?” as she arched her back and curled up atop of scratch tower.
“Well, my preening sisters,” replied Lamont, “I think you will find
this most interesting. I think we have it made in the shade. If the furless
ones don’t toss us out we can expect to live 12 even up to 20 years. After
further research I found out that if we make it to 12 years that equates to
about 64 years for the furless ones. And, if we live to 19 years that equates
to about 92 years in their terms. I’m afraid out our poor outside cousins only
live from 1 to 5 years, poor buggers.”
“Most interesting,” brother, said Pawline, stifling a yawn. “I’m
glad you had something to do. As for me, I think a nap is in order.”
“Not yet,” meowed Patchtricia, “Here they come with tonight’s
dinner. I wonder whether it will be turkey and cheese with succulent gravy or
chicken and Salmon with gravy, or just Chicken with gravy, or beef with gravy.”
“Isn’t saying gravy each time a bit redundant?” said Pawline.
“Of course not,” said Patchtricia, “if you piggy cats didn’t lap it
up before I get my fair share.”
“Ah, petting and brushing time as well!” They all said in chorus.
“Life is not too bad here in the Shackteau.”
“Oh my,” said Lamont, “I just thought, do you know how old the
furless ones are?”
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