Terrance had been accused of being awkward before, a fact he was rather proud of, but today when the lament was made, he felt miffed.
Awkward? All he was doing was batting a weed with his paw, if this was awkward, then he was a fierce lion.
Casting a confused glance towards the woman who gave him his milk, he ceased his play, and strode over expecting a cuddle, instead he was swept his up and pushed into a small box.
Staring through the bars he miaowed plaintively.
“Trust you to find Bittersweet Hemlock, off to the vets we go.”