[Dovey]

// Open

Fincher, the former kittypet now hostile rouge, was on some moss, with scraps. “Finally, some peace and no one wanting my scraps.” He sighed. What’s the point of life here? Or anywhere for that matter. He wondered. Hearing a new cat, he shoved his scraps under his moss and called, ”What do you want?”

(Sorry it’s shirt, I’m on mobile)