So we have a different cat. His name is Carl (although I usually call him "Beebee beebee" in an annoying high-pitch squeal or Carlzipan).
Carl is an adorable grey tabby with big green eyes and soft soft soft kitty-type fur. So soft. He is also more aggressive than Bok Choy and should be renamed Shiloc for he constantly seems to be demanding one pound of flesh from me (although I don't recall making deals). The cat really is gentle most of the time. Except this morning. When he smelled the bacon. Usually he is in Julia's room at night but I took him as a favour which is always worse for me because I am a complete push over. The cat wants to lie on my outstretched arm until it falls asleep? Sure, just careful, don't move that arm or you'll bug the cat. He comes in every few hours to get his chin scratched and I oblige.
My conclusion: I am being trained by a cat. I have scratch marks up and down my arm to prove it (hey, wrestling with him is fun, I know the price)
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