A Celebrity Profile of My Cat
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I am led into the quaint living room of Honeybear’s rustic Santa Monica bungalow, where she sits by the window, her gimlet eyes scanning the bushes beyond the glass. “Just keep looking,” she whispers—a mottled bloom of calico perched on the edge of a peacock couch. I’m rapt in suspense and more than a little nervous. It isn’t every ...
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