Target walks slowly up his pet steps but as he steps onto the sofa, he pauses; his claw is tangled up in the throw. Being Target, he gives me an accusing look. In his world, anything that is wrong is to be fixed by me, and instantly.
But as I unhook his claw, he meows in protest. He’s just remembered what happens when he gets stuck. Thankfully, we avoid the usual drama because we’ve had an epiphany.
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