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Mistress of the Home

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The human has brought fresh milk. For this alone she will live another day, spared my sharp claws and my hissing. I will roll over and only show her my softest belly, my kindest side, because she has thought to feed me when so many others have not. Because she gives me thread to play with. Because she never dislodges me from her lap but lets me sit there, petting me gently. There are so many who would hurt me. She does not.

For this I will give her my love. None deserve it more than my mistress, after all.