Well, it's official: as of this past Sunday (when I was a bad monkey, and had abandoned my beloved cats for the dubious comforts of Comic-Con), Thomas Price Lynn Rhymer Taylor McGuire, my blue classic tabby and white male Maine Coon, is two years old. This means he has ceased to be a kitten, and has become an official cat. Not that he seems to
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Cats, please don't eat Seanan in anticipation of this trip. We need her as much as you do. (Okay, maybe not. Stop glaring at me like that.)
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SO MAD.
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Couldn't you just not promise to write a con report? I don't think anybody would complain or anything, as long as nothing bad happens from not promising to write a con report.
(On the other hand, if that's a clause in your deal with the crossroads, or it's part of the ritual that keeps a serial killer trapped in a corn maze, or something like that, I understand entirely.)
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Happy birthday to Thomas from the Maines here in Texas, and have FUN in Portland!
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