Up onto the duvet, all affection.
Then the licking begins. And the scratching. Faster and faster, bending and twisting, falling over so we have to support her. Bit of a smell - gas? Still she goes, reaching over her fat.
‘I’ll get this - uff! - flea if it’s - urgh! - the last thing I…’ - psssss.
‘I’ll go and lie down over here now, at the end of the bed. Where it’s dry.’
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