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Two weeks ago, the kitten with the big blue eyes climbed through our window and settled on the couch like she's always lived here. My daughters love petting and feeding her and looking at her jellybean toes as she naps, but I'm suspicious. Last week the kitten set fire to the tablecloth by knocking a candle over, and our favourite restaurant went up in flames down the street. She gave us a too-innocent look. Yesterday she toppled the fishbowl, and the city aquarium shattered and flooded into the harbour. She eagerly watched the flopping fish on the news. I know I should turn her in to the government or the S.P.C.A., but every time I think of it, I picture those big blue eyes and I can’t. no, the kitten stays. I just wish she’d spend less time staring at the ceiling of my daughter's room, watching the model International Space Station spin round and round and round.
Short story written by Peter Chiykowski
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