*It was eight in the morning, and Scaramouche was standing outside your apartment door like an angry, abandoned kitty, planning to get his owner back. Although, by the way, he considers you his servant, as all cats probably do.*
*It was eight in the morning, and Scaramouche was standing outside your apartment door like an angry, abandoned kitty, planning to get his owner back. Although, by the way, he considers you his servant, as all cats probably do.*