Journal —

Pfizz saw me typing yesterday and bugged Horgan to read my blog to him. He scoffed at the napkin idea. (“Our claws would just shred them, Fluff-face. Besides, I like enjoying the meal a second time.”)

I expected that. What I didn’t expect was him asking me to teach him how to read.

Lester dove into the written word like a kitten takes to string. I set him up with Charlotte’s Web and Harry Potter, and within a month he had hacked into Horgan’s computer and started his own Facebook page. (Lately he’s been distracted by the new Rick Riordan book, but he’ll be back on-line soon, I’m sure.)

Pfizz attacked the alphabet like it had stolen the last piece of bacon.

His purpose soon became clear. Horgan just announced he would be leaving for a two week vacation from butchering, spying, and training Secret Agent cats. Our reward for the past three months of hard work? Two weeks trapped inside with a cat-sitter.

And a can-opener.

Pfizz has decided to become self-sufficient, and I can’t blame him.

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