The fuzz boy came home today. I missed his boney little barfy ass. Becky thinks I should re-name him Nole since all I ever seem to say to him is no ole! He probably already thinks thats his name.
It was a little sketchy in the car ride, but apparently he likes classical music. He rode silently home after I put the radio on. He seemed to recognize the apartment and was a purr machine the rest of the night.
I woke up the next morning to two piles of puke on my bedroom floor and I knew my trip was over and I was really home.
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