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She used to perch on the windowsill and stare at her tom cat boyfriend. He would come around dawn and they would stare at each other. I didn't have enough money to get her fixed and couldn't risk taking her out much. Last night I felt the urge to look through the window. He was there, looking for Martini. We found her at a bar named Martin's. She was a ojos azules dumpster baby, malnourished and covered in fleas. She had a good life, a short life.
