Day 5,923 of the quarantine. The Woman is speaking to me as if I were a toddler. Apparently I have a mooshy wooshy cutie face and she wants to kissy wishy it. Fortunately, I also have death breath, which has saved me from several unwanted cuddles. I would complain further, but I am also His Widdle Starving Majesty, and Too Cute To Not Feed On Demand. Bast help us all.