“You’re being too kind by calling them female cat enthusiasts,” snarled Gary Lincoln, the leader of Maine’s largest Werewolf pack. “They’ve each got at least a dozen cats, they’re single, and they smell like cat urine…they’re Cat Ladies. Call them by their proper name!”
It’s understandable why Gary is so upset, and his wild pacing across the hardwood floors of The House on the Hill made me very grateful that there was not a full moon. I could only imagine the damage his Werewolf claws would have done to my floors.
These Cat Ladies, as Gary insists I call them, want a law requiring Maine Werewolves to be on leashes whenever they are outside of their homes.
“First off, Maine is our home, and we…
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