On a pretty regular basis, I will say to no one in particular, “Have you met my cat? He’s French.”

I don’t know why I am compelled.  Oliver is not French (obviously). But I like to call him Olivier (and my daughter calls him Oliviegg).

I would make him wear a beret if I didn’t think I wouldn’t pull back a bloody stump where my hand used to be.

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2 Responses to frenchy

  1. ekdrue says:

    La chat, c’est magnifique! When I finally meet him, I will happily call him Oliviegg.

  2. Lisa Clark says:

    Oh, la la – j’adore le Chat. And…if you look…you can see a glimpse of the French superiority hidden behind the hostility.

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