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is my cat happy?

sometimes she looks at me and I can see bitterness that her bowl isn’t always overflowing, and that she can only run so far on the roof before the roof runs out. I see the boredom in her life of relative luxury and extremely limited freedom. “do you really think playing with a dry baton of spaghetti makes my day?” she says, like a Soprano. it’s Anzac Day, we should be grateful for the comfort that limits to freedom bring.

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