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I watch as the cat lays in my arms, weakly, attempting to hurt me. Teeth ground dull over years and years, and nails on nearly useless legs, do nothing to loosen my grip. The line from the bag in in his leg. I watched it as if I could see the fluids entering his thin body. He firgited. As I pulled him closer to me his bones ground into my body and I felt ashamed. I leaned far over him, forehead nearly touching cool metal of the table beneath us, and stare deep into feral eyes. He is defient.
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