Mr. Face rapidly progresses. He is master of the upstairs, free from all restraints and closed doors. Blind, as always (anybody got a spare cat retina?), he knows where his food and litterbox are, where the scratching post is, and most importantly, where the bed is. He is quite the cuddlebug, and spends all night (and likely most of the day) comfortably ensconced on our bed. The mystery of the stairs continues to elude him… won’t even attempt them, and seems to wonder why we have a bottomless pit at the edge of the hallway. He must have lived in a ranch house in his former life.
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