She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. Now keep still. ‘I did not think so. It was Jack, wasn’t it?’ ‘Aye, s-sir. They don’t now. " "I am calm—perfectly calm," replied Winifred. At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws.
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