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This is my cat, Juju," the woman says, noting my obvious confusion, maybe even my fear. "He's my good luck charm."
"Uh, yeah," I say, backing away ever so slightly. That's some collar.
I love the rhinestones. Trés chic."
"Rhinestones? Don't be silly. I buy all his accessories from a jeweler. His collar is from Catier. As they say, diamonds are a cat's best friend."
My upper lip twitches. Nobody has ever said that. And I'm pretty sure she means Cartier.
She blows the cat a kiss, and I swear, if cats could smile, this one does, his giant face twisting with love or hunger.
"He's huge," I say, watching his tail flick a bit menacingly.
"He's a rare French breed, a Chartreux. He's just, how do you say? Big-boned?" She chortles out a laugh. "I really should put him on a regime like the vétérinaire said. He weighs nine kilos. Can you believe it? I strain my back when I try to pick him up. But he truly doesn't like les haricots verts or les courgettes. He's quite the gourmand."
My head spins with confusion. I wonder, What cat would like green beans and zucchini? as I convert the math in my head. Her cat weighs around twenty pounds. And, apparently, he hates vegetables but adores his bling.
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