Pet death 

A good cat died tonight in rainy Portland while two of her least resented humans pet her and held her paw (her least favorite thing). She lived longer than most, traveled the country and was loved. In the fiction of her life she rented a room of her own took out loans from actual sharks to pay for graduate school, culinary school and the cell phone that she used to run her international crime syndicate. She hated her flying squirrel and loved the fire place. Safe travels Turkey.

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