So i sat down in my desk chair, and biscuit comes up, with her feather-duster tail conducting some silent orchestra, and i pet her. She lets me do that now, more than she did before. But then she eventually pulls away. “See?’ I say to her. “You realize it’s not so bad to have that affection, but you still can’t help it. I don’t know where that comes from because i’ve had you since you were an itty bitty kitty, and you’ve always been safe and nothing bad has ever happened to you. So i guess it’s about that nature versus nurture thing, huh, Biscuit? Your genetics make you just a little fucked up. And that’s okay, because you’re not my biological child.”
She made a sound that was like “yeah” and strolled away.