They’re screwing with my mind.

A few days ago they leave—at night—and come back hours later with two people. I wasn’t too sure about them at first, but I realized underneath all that hair that one of them was the Younger Human. The one who first brought me home. I recognized his smell, but I didn’t recognize the other person. I’ll tell you what, she smells better than he does, that’s for sure.

These younger people, they know how to treat me. He plays with me the right way—he knows how to swing my toy through the air so I can jump up to attack it (nothing personal to my Other People, but chasing things along the floor is, well, boring.) And she doesn’t grab me and hold me in her lap when I don’t want to be held. She lets me sniff her hand and decide if I’m in the mood to be petted.

It occurs to me…maybe my People are just too old for me.

In any case, I like the young people. They can stay.

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