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Reading something else on this site reminded me of a friend of my mum’s. Years and years ago, when her son was a toddler, they had a cat.

One day she noticed the cat had not eaten it’s breakfast, so she started calling for him.

Her son watched on, shaking his head, saying “Poor pussy. Poor poor pussy..”

As the morning passed, she occasionally called for the cat, but got no response other than her son saying “Poor poor pussy”.

By the time lunchtime rolled around, she realised perhaps her son knew something about the wherabouts of the cat, so she asked him: “where is pussy? What has happened to puss?”

He looked at her and said “poor cold pussy”.

Horrified she realised what might have happened, raced into the garage, where the chest freezer was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, opened it up, and out came poor cold pussy. A few minutes wrapped in a warm towel in front of the heater, and poor pussy was all ok!


Posted by katelt, 27th May 2013


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