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I hear crying of a fellow furry friend. His yowling is haunting and pitiful. Pleas for food, companionship…I’m not sure but I am as I should be curious. I poke my head through the dusty blinds and stare out into the flooded porch. I see him. Brown wiry fur with a peppering of black. He is stout but strong looking. His face is round and sweet but his balls scare me. Floods of jealousy flush through my system. Unlike him I am kept in my domicile by my parents and he is allowed freedom. He has been given the opportunity to procreate, I can tell this by his ample and protruding testicles and his quick shots of yellowish spray that shoots from him all over anything he wants to mark.

His cries sadden my heart. I want to help but lacking opposable thumbs and the ability to give I have no idea what to do, other than stare. I stare all day. At him. Birds, him.

Today was an exceptional day as I was able to escape and explore the front yard. I stalked a bird for a few but mother lorded over me in the window as dad sped toward the driveway. I thwarted his initial attempt to catch me through and nested myself beneath the shed in the backyard. It had just rained and water had flooded but I did not care at all. The cool water was soothing and the chase from capture is always fun.

I will continue to stare, and listen. I hope one day I can help this poor soul. Until then I wait.

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