After I made the beer run prior to getting into the Philly Park card I tossed my zip-up sweatshirt upon my old mussed-up bed. The cats were upstairs on edge after their lunch because my wife's girlfriend Barbara was here and they don't know her. The momcat Mister Mittens jumped upon my bed, sniffed my old grungy sweatshirt and cried out in great happiness before taking a flop for some sleep.
Not long after, Mr. Mittens' son Trouble jumped up upon my bed, sniffed my scent on the sweatshirt and he too dropped for a nap in contact with it.
The Sweet Babycakes, Shiloh? She may have been the runt kitten but she's a lady and preferred to do her afternoon sleep in my recliner. To her it no doubt smells better than my old sweatshirt.
