Pussycat, Pussycat, Where Have You Been?

The first time Jamie’s parents came to our new house for dinner, we got them comfortable on the sofa in front of the fire with drinks while we continued preparing the meal. Not ten minutes had elapsed before his mother called me from the living room. I trotted in.

“Laura, the cat’s on the sofa.”

I looked at Tuxedo who was indeed sitting on the sofa. Tux returned my gaze: She raised one cat eyebrow at me then swiveled her head and stared meaningfully at Jamie’s mother.  I turned back to my mother-in-law. “You know what she’s saying? She’s saying, ‘Laura, the old lady’s on the sofa.’”

I spun on my stiletto and returned to the kitchen.

No wonder Debbie was her favorite daughter-in-law.

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