The cat, Bozo, sat at the double doors, almost always open, as it was the morning, the cool breeze wafting in across his short, scarred by still strangely soft body fur.

He looked out, although, what with the solid wood railing between him and the more distant outside world, he couldn’t really see much of anything. Still, he peered out, blinking only occasionally, thinking whatever cat thoughts might go through such a creature’s seemingly limited but definitely walnut-sized brain.

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