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They know better
than to dip into
the mint tea, the creamy coffee
gets its customary sugar lick.
The julep,  they abhor
like the vacuum.
She loves them,
every one capable
of the cricket shriek,  or
of its muffled content.

Another classical evening,
a record on, fire
in place for a quiet
Hallmark evening,  felines,
jigsaw tabled,
and hot cocoa.

Make no mistake,  this
woman and her cats can
spell
  P A R T Y.

It only takes the third
refill with marshmallows
in the microwave, one toke
of catnip,  that clumsy angel,
Murphy, vaulting off
the table’s edge to tap
the chandelier,  and
Jim, that old devil of a tom,
gracefully jumping
to the table
performing his version
of Swan Lake,
DISCO style.

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